To Hell and Back
by LAXgirl
Summary: After a disasterous mission of the Order, Snape is accused of being one of Voldemort's spies and sent to Azkaban. But when his innocence is finally proven 4 years later, will he go back to the Dark side or return to those that betrayed him?
1. Wrongfully Accused

Well, here I am yet again! And with a new story to boot! I know the someone-gets-sent-to-Azkaban storyline's kind of been done, but I've never seen one where our favorite Potions Master is the unfortunate one to go. (Even as I write this, I bet half a dozen people are getting ready to write and tell me so-and-so has a story just like this... :P) I know it's usual poor Harry that gets locked away, but I couldn't help but wonder how someone like Snape, who's already had such a dark and miserable life, would deal with being sent to Azkaban by those he thought he could trust. I thought it'd be an interesting concept to explore...

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters are not mine, nor are they being used for profit in the telling of this story.

**Chapter One: Wrongfully Accused**

Fire burned low in the fireplace of Dumbledore's office as the old Headmaster scanned the report on his desk. His normally twinkling blue eyes were distant and sad, filled with a deep sorrow that seemed to reach down to the very depths of his soul. Even Fawkes, perched on the back of his chair, sat quiet and subdued as if he could sense his master's distress.

"Are you sure of this?" Dumbledore asked, looking up at the young man in front of him – a recent recruit to the Order named Alex Shore who had graduated from Hogwarts several years before from Ravenclaw.

"Yes, Sir," Alex replied, solemnly meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "All these missions the Dark Lord has known about before we even strike are too much for mere coincidence; there is a spy within our midst. Last night's mission only proves it. There is no other way the Dark Lord could have known about our plans unless someone within the Order told him."

Dumbledore stared at the report in his hands, wanting nothing more than to deny what it said. But there was no way for him to ignore its terrible conclusion. It just made too much sense. And last night's raid only proved it...

The week before, Dumbledore had received information about a secret Death Eater stronghold somewhere on the East side of London. He and other members of the Order had immediately made plans to attack the stronghold and capture any Death Eaters they found. If reports were right and their attack was successful, their raid would have been a major blow to Voldemort's side.

Unfortunately, it seemed Voldemort had already known about their attack, and set a trap for them.

The raid had been a disaster. They had been cornered and outnumbered more than four to one. Over five Order members had been killed before they were finally able to retreat. Many more had been injured. It was something of a miracle they had only lost as many people as they did.

But for as terrible a blow the raid had been on the Order, it was nothing compared to the terrible blow it dealt Dumbledore to know the identity of the one responsible.

"It can be no one else?" he asked, his eyes almost pleading with Alex to tell him it wasn't true.

"No, I'm sorry, Sir. All my information points to only one person..."

Dumbledore hung his head in defeat, his shoulders slumping with the weight of what he knew he had to do.

"Contact other members of the Order," he said, looking away from Alex with tears in his eyes, "and tell them what we know..."

The young man gave a solemn nod and left, leaving Dumbledore alone to stare at the report.

Behind Dumbledore, Fawkes gave a mournful trill.

* * *

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was not the brightest of places. In fact it was downright dark and dreary half the time. Old residence of an ancient line of purebloods, it was the architectural epitome of everything the dark aristocrats of the wizarding world adored.

To many it would seem the unlikeliest of places those fighting the Dark Lord would ever make their headquarters.

But to Severus Snape, the old Black mansion seemed a somehow fitting place for the warriors of Light to make their base.

War, no matter which side one fought for, was wrought with secrecy and lies. Just because one side fought for truth and justice didn't mean it didn't use the same methods of subterfuge as the other.

It was the same in every war, no matter how history portrayed its heros or told how they won the valiant fight. Because hidden deep underneath their grand facades of good deeds and honorable causes, they were just like the ones they were fighting against; willing to use lies and deceit to get what they needed to win.

The Order of the Phoenix was no different.

He should know because he was the dark element of their valiant campaign. He was the one they relied on to do the things they couldn't bring themselves to do. The one to lie and cheat and gather information they thought they were too good and pure to get themselves. He was their inside informant, their spy. The one no one wanted to admit to knowing or having on their side. What he did was not considered honorable or trustworthy, even by those he spies against. His existence was nothing but a necessary evil, a dark means to an end.

And it was for this reason Severus Snape found the Black mansion so fitting a place for the Order of the Phoenix to make its base. It was the outward display of the Light side's darker, hidden self.

Sweeping up the steps like a black wraith, Snape rapped his wand against the battered, paint-pealed door. A loud series of clicks sounded on the other side – like a rattling chain – before the door slowly swung open with a creak.

The front entrance hall was quiet and dim. Snape couldn't detect any sign of movement or sound from anywhere else in the house. Not that he really expected to though... After last night's raid, he doubted anyone within the Order was going to be having any type of celebration for a very long time.

He only hoped Dumbledore would not let grief get in the way of what needed to be done next. He knew many people would call him cruel for saying it, but they did not have time to sit around crying about what happened. There was no time for tears in war. Mourning would have to come later after they'd won. What they needed to do right now was to regroup and strategize. Lord only knew Voldemort would never let something like this get in the way of him making _his_ next move...

_Damn bleeding hearts... _Snape thought with a scowl. It was emotions like this he knew the Dark Lord was counting on to gain the upper hand in their ongoing battle.

He could only hope tonight's emergency meeting would do something to make up for last night's disaster; the anonymous note he'd received earlier that night about it at least suggested Dumbeldore was planning something...

Snape made his way towards the door that led to the kitchen-basement. That was where they always held meetings; it was one of the only rooms in the house large enough to hold everyone in the Order and offered a certain amount of extra privacy.

As he made his way down the stairs, he saw a faint glow of light appear from below. He couldn't detect any hint of sound, but knew others already had to be there.

Not thinking much of the abnormal quiet, he swept down the rest of the stairs and into the dimly lit basement. What he met though when he finally emerged from the shadows of the night was something he never expected to see.

Every member of the Order was already there, crowding the room and staring back at him in utter silence.

Snape instantly froze halfway into the room. For a minute he wondered if he was late. But then he noticed the looks of those staring back at him. They were looks of hatred and anger.

A loud bang sounded behind Snape. Whirling around, the acerbic Potions Master found the door to the stairs suddenly shut tight – blocking off his only exit. Slowly turning back around, Snape scanned the assembled room, wondering what the hell was going on.

His eyes finally found Dumbledore on the other side of the room. The old Headmaster looked tired and worn. Like he'd suddenly aged several years overnight. A pained expression darkened his normally bright and cheery face. His eyes were downcast and dull, staring at the floor as if unwilling to look up and meet the Potion Master's questioning gaze.

Dumbledore's group of Gryffindor lackeys stood in a close circle around him. McGonagall, Lupin, the four oldest Weasleys, Moody, Shacklebolt, and Black were all there including some other boy Snape had only begun to see at recent Order meetings. They all stared back at him, each of them silently relaying their own inner emotion.

McGonagall solemnly regarded him with something Snape could only describe as a look of betrayal in her pale grey eyes; Lupin stood silent and grave, as if still trying to decide how he felt; Moody and Shacklebolt eyed him with dark, vengeful eyes – like how he'd imagine they'd look right before they apprehended a wanted dark wizard; the Weasleys stood like a small spot of red in the sea of angry faces, betraying no outward emotions; Black just stared at him with hateful eyes, his haggard face twisted with loathing and disgust; and Dumbledore... Dumbledore refused to meet his eyes. But from what Snape could see in Dumbledore's downcast eyes was a deep resonance of hurt and betrayal.

Snape looked around at the other members of the Order crowding the room again. He could feel their eyes boring into him, as if accusing him of some unspoken crime.

"Dumbledore... What's going on?" Snape finally found his voice, his usually confident tone betraying his confusion and unease.

"That's enough out of you," Shacklebolt said, stepping in front of Dumbeldore as if shielding him from Snape's question. His voice was dangerous and hard, warning Snape not to try anything stupid as he and Moody both stepped forward and leveled wands at the confused Potion Master's chest. "Just drop your wand and step away from it."

Snape stared at the Auror as if he'd just gone mad. What the _bloody_ hell was going on?

"Dumbledore, what's going on?" he demanded, looking towards the old Headmaster. "What's all this about?"

Dumbledore slowly looked up at him. As he met Snape's gaze, Snape felt his heart clench with the sudden realization there were repressed tears in the old man's eyes.

"We know what you did, Severus..." he said, his dull blue eyes speaking of untold hurt and betrayal. "Just do what Shacklebolt and Moody say and come along peacefully. Please don't make this any harder than it already has to be..."

Snape stared at his old Headmaster and mentor in utter confusion. "What do you mean 'what I did'?" he demanded, a hint of fear beginning to taint his normally silky voice. "What are you talking about?"

Dumbledore shut his eyes and took a deep breath as if trying to keep the tears in his eyes from overflowing his defenses. Beside him, McGonagall put a comforting hand on his forearm. As if collecting himself enough to speak, Dumbledore looked back up at Snape.

"We know about the raid, Severus. We know that you told Voldemort about our plans, and that it was your information that led to him setting that trap that killed several of our numbers. We know that you are working as his spy inside the Order."

Snape stared at Dumbledore as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Dumbledore thought he was spying for Voldemort? How could he possibly even think that?

"That's insane! I would never tell the Dark Lord that!" he shouted. He stared at Dumbledore in angered disbelief. "I would _never_ return to his side! You of all people should know that!"

"I thought I did..." Dumbledore regretfully whispered.

Angry murmurs were beginning to circulate the crowded room.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater!" someone shouted.

"It's your fault Tonks and everyone else died!"

"We should have never trusted him!"

"Bloody traitor!"

The room erupted into an unintelligible cacophony of angry shouts and curses.

Snape frantically looked to Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore! You must believe me! I had nothing to do with last night! I would never betray the Order!"

"I am sorry, Severus, but we have sources that say otherwise... " the old Headmaster said, looking away from the stunned Potions Master.

Snape stared at Dumbledore in disbelief, feeling as though his stomach had just dropped out from under him. This wasn't happening. This just _couldn't_ be happening!

Shacklebolt and Moody were approaching, their wands aimed at the Potion Master's chest.

"Drop your wand, Snape," Moody growled, his magical eye fixed on Snape as though trying to spear him with its gaze.

Snape was only distantly aware of the two Aurors closing in on him from different sides. He didn't even care that he was cornered and outnumbered. All he could do was stare at Dumbeldore, the man he'd entrusted his entire life to after turning away from the Dark side all those years ago.

"Drop it, Snape!" Shacklebolt yelled.

"Dumbledore! You have to believe me!" Snape shouted, starting to grow desperate. "I would never go back to the Dark Lord! I would rather die before I ever went back to him!"

Dumbledore still refused to look at him.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Shacklebolt shouted. Snape's wand went flying out of his hand and rolled to a stop half a dozen feet away. Moody quickly followed with a full body-binding spell.

Snape staggered backwards as rings of magical energy flew out of Moody's wand and wrapped around him in a crushing, immobilizing embrace. Shacklebolt and Moody both stepped forward and seized him by the arms.

"Severus Snape, you are hereby under arrest by order of the Ministry and sentenced to Azkaban for crimes of being a known Death Eater and follower of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," Shacklebolt said. "You are also charged with being a willful conspirator in the deaths of Nymphadora Tonks, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, and Sturgis Podmore..."

Snape couldn't believe this was happening. It was like some kind of bad dream he couldn't wake up from.

Shacklebolt and Moody were beginning to drag him towards the door. He could feel the eyes of everyone else in the room follow him with their dark, hateful glares. Several of them called out their approval as he was drug past.

"Rot in hell, you bloody traitor!"

"Dementors are too good a punishment for what you've done!"

Snape desperately looked to Dumbledore one last time.

"Dumbledore, please! I risked my life for you!" he frantically cried, struggling against his restraints. "I risked _everything_ to help you win! Why won't you believe me?"

For a brief moment of time Dumbledore met Snape's eyes. But then with a sorrowful look on his old wizened face, he adverted his eyes and turned his back on the frantic Potions Master, sealing him to his fate.

Snape froze, his entire body going slack. He felt like his entire world had just come crashing down around him. Shacklebolt and Moody were still dragging him out the door. But Snape could not bring himself to fight them anymore. All he could do was stare at Dumbledore – the only man he'd ever come to trust.

And it was with that final, haunting image of Dumbledore's turned back forever seared into his memory, Severus Snape was taken away and locked in Azkaban for four long and very lonely years.

To be continued...

Like it? Hate it? Please tell me what you thought. I'm seriously going to be relying on feedback for the first chapter to see if I'm going to continue with this or not. Thanks for reading!

LAXgirl


	2. Truth Too Late

Wow... I never knew so many people disliked Dumbledore. LOL Anyway, a big thank you to everyone that read and reviewed the last chapter. Just a quick note: the beginning of this story was set sometime during "the Order of the Phoenix" but before Sirius' death and Voldemort's raid on the Department of Mysteries. So Sirius will be making several rather important appearances later on in the story. Also, some of the questions raised in chapter One along with Dumbledore's reasoning for not believing Snape will be explored more later on in the story. I have to flesh out the story more and get different points of view in before we get a more well-rounded look at Snape's arrest.

Anyway, hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**Chapter Two: Truth Too Late**

Fire burned bright in the fireplace of Dumbledore's office. The soft crackling of wood filled the room as small sprays of embers burst from the burning logs. Flames leaped and snapped in the air, locked in their ancient dance of light and shadows. But for as bright and cheery a roaring fire might be, it brought the old Headmaster of Hogwarts little joy.

He stared down into the flames, lost in troubled thought. Dark shadows wreathed his face, cast by the flickering light of the fire. He somehow looked older in the firelight – even older than he really was. Wrinkles lined his entire face, attesting to the many long years Dumbledore had seen and endured. But there was something more than just age creasing the old wizard's brow. It was the same weariness and growing despair of someone who was fighting a losing fight, and knew it.

For five long years now he and the Order of the Phoenix had fought to keep Lord Voldemort from taking over the wizarding world. Five long years of suffering and bloodshed, and still there was no end of it in sight...

Despite all their efforts, the Light side was steadily losing. The Ministry was all but destroyed. The government was in shambles. Witches and wizards everywhere lived in constant fear of Death Eater attacks. Hogwarts had become one of the last safe havens in all of wizarding England. Every day the Order seemed to become less and less effective in stopping Lord Voldemort's growing army of Death Eaters. Even Harry was becoming more susceptible to the Dark Lord's influence. He now suffered almost daily attacks from Voldemort – visions and searing pain in his scar he couldn't stop until Voldemort severed their connection or he mercifully fainted. Dumbledore had tried to teach him Occlumency, but every time the poor boy so much as looked at him Voldemort would partially possess him and destroy any chances of Harry ever learning to push him from his mind. Dumbledore had tried to find someone else to teach Harry, but the only other skilled Occlumens Dumbledore knew of besides himself were Voldemort and Severus Snape.

Dumbledore slowly turned away from the fire, his face solemn as he began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. His shadow followed his every step, cast by the flickering light of the fire.

_Severus..._

Dumbledore often caught himself thinking about the disgraced Potions Master. Even now, almost four years after his arrest, it still pained him to think about Snape's betrayal. He had truly thought Snape had reformed – that he had seen the error of his ways and turned away from the Dark side. But he had not. His betrayal of the Order only proved that...

Dumbledore could only attribute Snape's betrayal to Lord Voldemort's sudden push for power four years ago. After a massive attack on the Ministry that had resulted in the Minister of Magic going into hiding, Dumbledore could only assume Snape had seen that as a sign of Voldemort's imminent victory. And so, being the true Slytherin opportunist he was, Snape had changed loyalties on the off chance of joining the winning side.

Dumbledore gave a weary sigh and turned to retrace his steps in front of the fire.

If only they'd known about Snape's betrayal before the raid. Then none of this would have happened, Dumbledore thought with a frown. After that disastrous raid and Snape's arrest, nothing seemed to have gone right for the Order since. Dumbledore often wondered if Voldemort hadn't been able to get another spy inside the Order before they'd managed to expose Snape. He had tried several times now to discover who the second spy might be, but every time had come up empty-handed. Dumbledore could only assume Voldemort's second spy was an Occlumens like Snape had been – able to hide his thoughts and emotions behind a mental barrier no one else could penetrate. Dumbledore might have been a master Occlumens, but even he could not to break into another Occlumen's mind if that person didn't want him to. That was one of the reasons he suspected Snape escaped his detection for so long. That and his own unwillingness to believe the man he'd thought he'd saved from the Dark side would ever go back.

Putting Snape in Azkaban had been easy. There'd been no need for a trial. The evidence against him had been cut and dry. And with Voldemort's Dark Mark burned into his forearm for all the world to see, there'd been no questions asked by anyone inside the Ministry for putting a known Death Eater away.

A sudden wooshing sound from the fireplace startled Dumbledore out of his thoughts. Looking towards it, Dumbledore saw the disembodied head of a familiar friend sitting in the embers.

"Hello, Remus," Dumbeldore greeted with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Dumbledore," the werewolf replied with a nod. His disembodied head teetered for a moment as if it were going to topple over, but then seemed to right itself again. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I have some important information from Headquarters."

"No, no... You didn't disturb anything but an old man's wandering thoughts which I fear I spend too much time thinking about anyway. Now, what is this important information you were talking about?" Very carefully, Dumbledore knelt down on the hearthstone in front of Lupin.

"As you know, we've had several members posted around the Ministry for the last couple of months in case of a Death Eater attack." Dumbledore nodded. "Tonight while on duty Shacklebolt and another Order member managed to capture a Death Eater trying to sneak into the lower levels of the building. We think Voldemort sent him to try and scout out any remaining security the Ministry might have."

Dumbledore sat up a little straighter on his knees. "Do you still have him?" he asked, leaning closer to the fire.

Lupin nodded. "Yes. Shacklebolt brought him back to Headquarters for questioning. We're waiting for you to get here before we start the interrogation."

Dumbledore nodded quickly. "Yes, I will be there in a minute. Do not start anything without me."

Lupin nodded. "Yes, Sir." Then with another wooshing sound, Lupin's head disappeared back through the Floo.

Dumbledore stood straight, new excitement and hope he hadn't felt in years kindling in his heart. This may be the break they've been waiting for! Over the past several years capturing Death Eaters and keeping them alive long enough to question and send to trial had become tricky business. Apparently many of Voldemort's followers thought it was better to kill themselves than be captured and sent to Azkaban. Not that Dumbledore really blamed them. Since the Ministry fell into shambles four years ago, Azkaban had been turned over to the Dementors' near complete control. Azkaban was now more a living Hell than it ever was a prison, which made the job of capturing those who deserved to go there all that more difficult. Death was now considered a better option than Azkaban.

Dumbledore quickly grabbed a canister of Floo powder on the mantle and threw a handful of it into the fire. A wall of emerald green flames leapt up inside the hearth. "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!" he shouted and stepped into the fire. Half a second later he was hurtling down a long corridor of darkness. Several moments after that he felt his feet hit the ground with a bone rattling jolt.

Dusting his robes off, the old Headmaster ducked out of the fireplace into the dimly lit parlor of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, also known as the secret Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Remus Lupin was already there, waiting for him. Dumbledore nodded to him and together the two of them went out the room towards the basement.

"Has the Death Eater said anything?" Dumbledore asked, starting down the stairs. Lupin followed close behind him.

"No, not yet. Shacklebolt stunned him unconscious before bringing him here. He didn't want to take the chance of him swallowing some hidden poison tablet before we got the chance to question him..."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "That was very smart of Kingsley to do," he said. "We can't afford to let this one kill himself before we figure out what Voldemort might be planning."

Lupin said nothing, but Dumbledore sensed him nod in agreement. As they came to the bottom of the stairs, they saw a faint glow of light shining out into the hallway from beneath the door. With a murmured spell, Dumbledore entered.

The normally cluttered basement was cleared of any tables or chairs except for one lone chair in the middle of the room. A man in black was tied to it, his head lifelessly hanging down his chest. By the way he was slouched in his seat it was obvious he was unconscious.

"Dumbledore," a voice said from beside the Headmaster. "You're here..."

Dumbledore looked towards the voice and saw Kingsley Shacklebolt and several other Order members already there, standing in a small group. Sirius Black, Mad-Eye Moody, and Professor McGonagall all looked up at him as he and Lupin entered.

"Shacklebolt, I heard you brought me someone to talk to," Dumbledore said, looking towards the man in the middle of the room.

The Auror followed Dumbledore's gaze. "Yeah. I caught him trying to sneak into the Ministry. I thought you two might have something you'd like to talk about."

"We do indeed. Minerva, did you happen to bring a vial of Veritaserum with you?" Dumbledore asked.

McGonagall nodded and extracted a small bottom of clear liquid from her dress sleeve. "You have to be very judicious with how much you use, Albus," she said, handing the vial to Dumbledore. "Our supplies are starting to run out. This is our last vial of Truth Serum. There's no one to make us any more and the Order doesn't have the funds to buy any."

Dumbledore's face darkened. That had been the Order's story for the last several years: no money and an ever increasing shortage of supplies. Every day they were running out of something else. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort won from their sheer lack of ability to keep their own side supplied.

Taking the potion, Dumbledore held it out to Shacklebolt. "Would you like to do the honors?" he asked.

Shacklebolt took the vial and looked towards the middle of the room. "Of course." Stepping up to the unconscious Death Eater, he forced three drops into the man's mouth. He waited several minutes, then taking his wand out, rapped it on the man's head – hard. "_Ennervate..._"

With a soft gasp the man came awake. He dazedly looked around the room, his eyes distant and glassy with that drugged look all people under the influence of Veritaserum got. The Death Eater looked to be in his mid-forties. He was heavier with a straggly, dirty look to him like he'd slept outside for the past several days. His hair was balding, and his eyes were an ugly, watery grey.

Shacklebolt stared into the man's face, assessing him with critical eyes. When he finally seemed satisfied the man was completely under the drug's influence, he turned to Dumbledore and nodded.

"Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked, coming to stand in front of the bound Death Eater. Shacklebolt slowly stepped back while the others looked on in silence.

The man blinked, as if processing Dumbledore's question. "Yes..." he murmured after a moment.

"Do you know who I am?" Dumbledore then asked, testing the man's coherency.

"Albus Dumbledore..." the man replied.

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. "Good, good... And what's your name?"

"Marcus Treadmore..."

"Why did Voldemort send you into the Ministry, Marcus?"

Even drugged the man gave a shudder at the Dark Lord's name. "He wanted me to find a way into the Department of Mysteries..."

"Why does Voldemort want to find a way into the Department of Mysteries?"

"There's something down there he wants..."

"And what does he want?" Dumbledore persisted.

The Death Eater dazedly blinked, his head lolling to the side as if unable to hold it up. "I don't know..."

Dumbledore frowned. "Do you know what Voldemort is planning to do after he finds a way into the Department of Mysteries?"

"No..."

"Do you know where he's going to make his next attack?"

"No..."

"Where does Voldemort make his stronghold?"

"I don't know... The Dark Lord summons us and we just Apparate to wherever he is... Only his most trusted servants know where he actually stays..."

Dumbledore gave a frustrated sigh and looked back over his shoulder to the others on the other side of the room. His expression told them everything they needed to know: he didn't think they were going to get anymore useful information out of their captive.

"His spy would know though..." the man suddenly mumbled.

Dumbledore's head snapped back around. "What did you say?" He could hear the others shift behind him, having also heard the Death Eater's unexpected volunteer of information.

"His spy would know where he stays..." the man repeated, glassily staring up at Dumbledore.

"Of what spy do you speak?" Dumbledore asked.

"The one inside the Order of the Phoenix..." the Death Eater replied.

Dumbledore felt his heart skip a beat. "Who is this spy?" he demanded, leaning down until he was almost eye level with the bound Death Eater. "Who is spying for Voldemort inside the Order? Tell me."

The man blinked and shook his head as if trying to clear it from a fog. "I don't know... The Dark Lord only refers to him as his 'Order Spy'... No one knows who he is..."

Dumbledore looked back over his shoulder and saw his own excitement and suspense mirrored in the faces of everyone else there. So there _was_ a spy in their midst. Just like they'd always thought...

A sudden drugged laugh made Dumbledore turn back around to regard their captive. "What's so funny?"

"You..." the Death Eater chuckled, his head lolling unsteadily around on his neck. " My Master always talked about how you not knowing who his spy amused him. I never knew what he meant until now..."

Dumbledore raised one silver eyebrow. "And why would that be?"

"Because of who you thought his spy was before..."

Dumbledore felt his blood run cold, a small niggling of unease prickling the back of his mind. "And who might that be?" he asked.

The drugged Death Eater gave another laugh. "That traitor... That Potions Master the Dark Lord found out you had spying on him..."

"Snape?" Dumbledore said, his face going several shades paler as the full meaning of the man's words began to sink in.

"Yeah... that's him..." the man chuckled. "The Dark Lord's real spy found out he was spying for you and told our Master... Our Master was not pleased and had him frame the traitor... He had his spy make it look like he was spying against you by arranging a trap during one of your "surprise" raids... And you fell for it without a second thought... The Dark Lord thought you putting the traitor in Azkaban would be a better punishment than anything he could have done... He said it would give him time to think about what he'd done..."

Dumbledore stared at the man in horror, a sickened expression coloring his face. Snape had been innocent this entire time? Oh God, what had he done?

The Death Eater laughed at Dumbledore's reaction. "You really thought he'd turned on you, didn't you?" he chuckled, his glassy eyes staring up at Dumbledore. "You really thought he'd betrayed you..." The drugged man gave another laugh. "The Dark Lord said it was almost poetic justice that you believed the traitor was guilty... He said it was fitting the ones the traitor thought he could trust would be the ones that turned on him and put him in jail... The Dark Lord's spy told him everything about how you did it... How you confronted him with all the members of your Order and arrested him... How he kept shouting he was innocent but you wouldn't listen... The Dark Lord was so pleased he didn't punish any of his followers for a week..."

Dumbledore turned away, unable to listen to anymore. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt like he was going to throw up. He'd put an innocent man in Azkaban... again. Snape had been innocent this entire time... He hadn't listened to a thing Snape had said before he'd turned his back on him and thrown away the key. He hadn't listened to his side of the story or even asked for a simple dose of Veritaserum to verify the story. He'd just listened to the accusations and believed them. He'd been so hurt by the thought of Snape's betrayal, he hadn't even given him a chance to prove his innocence. He'd just believed. And Snape had been innocent this entire time...

Looking up at the others, Dumbledore saw his own horror mirrored in their faces as well.

The Death Eater was now shaking with laughter, the Veritaserum loosening any sense of control he might have had. "You sent an innocent man to Azkaban!" he crowed, his eyes rolling around in his head. "And he was probably the only one on your side actually doing anything against the Dark Lord!"

"Someone take him away!" Dumbledore roared, unable to stand to the drugged man's laughter anymore.

Mad-Eye rushed forward and put a Silencing Charm on the man. Cutting the Death Eater's restraints, Moody pulled him to his feet and began dragging him towards the fireplace. "I'll take him to the Ministry," he growled, unable to meet Dumbledore's gaze. "I'll put him in a holding cell in case we want to question him more later." Dumbledore said nothing in response, and Moody and the Death Eater disappeared through the Floo in a flash of green flames.

Silence reigned in the basement for several minutes of unbroken stillness. No one moved or even seemed to breathe in the wake of the Death Eater's starting revelation.

Dumbledore seemed to finally recover himself from his initial shock and kicked himself into action. "I must go to Azkaban..." he said, starting for the door. "I have to get Severus out of there as soon as possible..."

"Dumbledore, wait!" Shacklebolt shouted, rushing to beat the Headmaster to the door. "I know what this means, but you can't just burst into Azkaban and demand a prisoner's release. You'll need proper paperwork. I'll go to the Ministry and petition for Snape's release, then meet you at Azkaban. It shouldn't take long. I know someone in the Department of Penal Law."

Dumbledore seemed to regain more of his composure, and nodded. "Yes, yes, Severus will need proper release papers..." he said, still looking dazed with shock. "Please hurry. I fear I've made Severus spend too much time in Azkaban as it is. He shouldn't have to spend another minute there."

Shacklebolt nodded and hurried for the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic!" he yelled and disappeared in a woosh of flames.

Dumbledore looked as if he was about to rush off again, but was once again stopped by a voice calling after him. "Albus," McGonagall said, stepping forward. "I'll come with you."

"So will I," Lupin said. "You may need help. We don't know what four years of Azkaban has done to Snape. We've already seen his less than engaging personality, and that was before four years of Dementors..."

Dumbeldore nodded numbly. "Yes... That would probably be advisable..." He slowly looked up at the last occupant in the room. "Sirius, would you please inform other members of the Order about this latest development. They must be told. But please only tell close, trusted members about Voldemort having another spy inside the Order. We still don't know who he might be."

Sirius stood there for several moments of thoughtful silence. "If you don't mind I think I'll go too," he said, "I may have never liked Snape, but I know what being innocently incarcerated feels like. I might be able to help."

Dumbledore looked down at the ground, Sirius' words hitting his heart like thrown daggers. _Innocently incarcerated..._ How painful those words were coming from the other man he'd wrongly imprisoned. Could he ever make up for such a grievous error?

"Yes, that's probably a good idea," he whispered, unable to meet Sirius' gaze.

"In that case, I'll stay here and tell other members of the Order," Lupin said, reading the pain and guilt on the old Headmaster's face. "I'll have Molly Weasley come and set up a room for Snape. Whatever state he's in, he should probably be around other people."

Dumbledore could not bring himself to answer, and merely nodded. Then turning back towards the door, the old Headmaster swept out of the room with McGonagall and Sirius following close behind. And with his guilt weighing heavily on him Dumbledore left Number Twelve Grimmauld Place to free the innocent man he'd sent to Azkaban four years ago...

To be continued...

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	3. Azkaban

Muchas gracias to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry it took so long for an update, but I've been distracted the last few weeks with work and other stuff. Anyway, hope you like the new chapter!

**Chapter Three: Azkaban**

Azkaban. Feared prison of the wizarding world. Just its name conjured up images of lightless hallways and dark foreboding cells. Built of cold granite stone, its very walls seemed to seep darkness. Cold permeated the air, freezing the marrow of any unfortunate soul unlucky enough to find itself inside its halls. It was a place of hopelessness and despair which few ever ventured into and which even fewer ever escaped.

Over the years many had protested Azkaban's continued existence. Many saw it as an inhumane leftover from the darker days of the Ministry's history. But with the ongoing war against Lord Voldemort raging outside, there were few anymore that cared about the welfare of Azkaban's inmates. After all, all of them were there for some reason or another - having committed some heinous crime or unforgivable act. All of them deserved to be there.

Except one.

And it was for that one innocent soul that Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, and Professor McGonagall had come to retrieve.

"God this place hasn't changed..." Sirius murmured, looking around the empty entrance hall he and his fellow Order members stood in. All around him he could feel the prison's countless security wards pressing down on him, suffocating him with their weight. Despite the heavy woolen cloak he wore he could feel the prison's all too familiar cold beginning to seep down to his skin. Somewhere nearby Sirius could feel Dementors lurking in the darkness, drawn to the smell of fresh prey. Their unseen presence seemed to suck the very warmth out of the air, chilling the soul with memories that were better left forgotten. "I'd hoped I'd never have to see this place again..."

McGonagall only seemed able to nod in response and mutely gazed around their desolate surroundings. With a subconscious tug, she pulled her shawl tighter around her. Whether she did that from cold or unease, Sirius Black was not about to venture a guess. He knew only too well the type of impression Azkaban could make on those that had never been there before. It was a place one did not easily forget...

"How much longer do you think Kingsley will be?" McGonagall asked, still hugging her shawl close. "It's been over an hour and I'm beginning to feel as though he's never going to come."

Sirius could only shrug. "I don't know. It may be awhile before he's able to get those release papers. Lord only knows how backed up and useless the Ministry is these days. There's hardly anyone left working the departments, and those that are are more worried about Death Eater attacks than keeping up with paperwork (although I can't really blame them...) We may have to wait awhile."

McGonagall visibly shuddered. "I hope he hurries..." she whispered. "I want to get out of here as soon as possible. It's like no one else is even here..."

Sirius mutely nodded. He was only too aware of what his old Transfiguration teacher was talking about. Although the presence of Dementors was everywhere, they'd only met one other human since reaching Azkaban, and that was an Auror at the docks when they'd arrived. Other than that the prison seemed completely deserted. He supposed that was partially due to the Ministry turning Azkaban over to the Dementors several years ago. Only a skeleton crew of Aurors guarded Azkaban anymore – the rest were fighting in the war against Voldemort.

Sirius suppressed a shiver. He couldn't imagine what Azkaban was like now. The Dementors had been horrible enough when Aurors still guarded the prison. But with them now free to feed on their prisoners any time they wished... He didn't even want to think about it. He was only grateful he didn't have to worry about returning to their... hospitality any time soon. In a brief moment of luck two years ago, the Order managed to capture Peter Pettigrew in a successful raid on one of Lord Voldemort's hideouts. Although the cowardly Animagus had killed himself before he could be brought to justice and made to pay for his crimes, the Ministry's acknowledgment of his existence nevertheless cleared Sirius Black's name, thus earning him his freedom.

"I wonder how Severus is," McGonagall suddenly said, breaking Sirius out of his thoughts.

The ex-fugitive glanced at her, studying her in the dim grey light of the hall. The stern Transfiguration teacher said nothing for a moment, a distant, haunted look shadowing her eyes.

"Four years..." she murmured, talking more to herself than anyone else. "Four years he's been here and he's been innocent this entire time. Merlin, I can't even begin to imagine what spending so many years in a place like this knowing everyone else you've ever known thinks you're a traitor must be like... It must have been Hell."

Something like a shadow passed over Sirius' eyes. "Yeah, it's something like that..." he whispered.

Almost subconsciously, Sirius glanced over at the last remaining member of their group. Like a silent statue Albus Dumbledore stood in the dark shadows of the hall, his head bowed and eyes downcast. He stood apart from Sirius and McGonagall as if he couldn't bring himself to be near any other people. His eyes were hollow and distant, shadowed by a pained look of grief that seemed to reach down to his very soul. He somehow looked older to Sirius, as if he'd suddenly aged several decades in the last few hours. His once proud shoulders were slumped, sagging forward as if he bore the weight of some terrible burden on them. Dumbeldore did not look up at Sirius or even seem to acknowledge his gaze. He just stared ahead, oblivious to everything else around him but the shadows of his own conscience.

Sirius was not about to speculate what kind of thoughts haunted the old man's mind, but he was pretty sure all of them were some varying form of self-incrimination and guilt.

Ever since learning the truth of Snape's arrest and leaving Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had become disturbingly quiet and withdrawn. Sirius still didn't know how he himself felt about everything that had had happened. A part of him was still reeling with disbelief, unable to fathom the full meaning of the Death Eater's revelation.

Snape had been innocent. He hadn't had anything to do with the disastrous mission that had led to his arrest and wrongful incarceration.

It was so strange to Sirius to be dealing with another incident that was so strikingly similar to his own – that another person had been wrongfully accused and sent to prison for crimes he'd never committed.

A part of him was appalled to hear such a thing could happen again, that another innocent person had been condemned to Azkaban without any formal proof or trial. A part of him wanted to blame Dumbledore for this. Somewhere deep inside, a part of him still blamed Dumbledore for what happened to him – that it was Dumbledore's fault for not discovering the truth about Peter Pettigrew until almost twelve years after the fact. Twelve years after he'd been wrongfully accused and left to rot in Azkaban...

But at the same time, Sirius could not bring himself to truly blame Albus Dumbledore for his or Snape's arrest. That would have been unfair because he knew he too had had a part in Snape's arrest, as did everyone else in the Order. All of them had an equal share of blame for putting an innocent man in prison. No one had asked for more verification or proof of Snape's guilt. No one else had asked to look over the facts before they condemned the one man that had probably risked more day after day for their cause than anyone else.

Sirius shook his head in disgust. They hadn't even used a dose of Veritaserum. He still remembered how Snape had repeatedly shouted his innocence the entire time Shacklebolt and Moody had been dragging him away. But he also remembered how none of them had even bothered to listen. They'd just been so sure of his guilt. It almost sickened Sirius to think about how little it would have taken to prove Snape's innocence and prevented another case of wrongful imprisonment. It was just so wrong. He of all people, he thought, should have known better...

The sudden sound of footsteps was what finally broke Sirius out of his thoughts. Looking up towards the door, Sirius saw Kingsley Shacklebolt making his way towards them. His bright red Auror robes were like a sudden ray of sunshine in the gloomy halls of Azkaban.

"I got them," he said, waving a small stack of papers in the air as he came closer. "I showed them to the Auror on the docks and he said we can go to the check-in desk now to finish the rest of the release procedures."

"Merlin's beard, Kingsley, what took so long?" McGonagall demanded when Shacklebolt finally came to a stop in front of them.

"I had more trouble getting Snape's release papers than I originally thought," he said. "With Snape's Dark Mark I had trouble convincing the people in the Department of Penal Law that Snape was actually working as a spy for us before he was arrested and that he was no longer You-Know-Who's follower."

"But is he free now?" Dumbledore asked, seeming to come alive for the first time in hours. His voice held a note of desperation in it, as if he were pleading with Shacklebolt to tell him he was successful in his mission.

"Yes, he's received a pardon," the Auror replied, "But I had to sign a written statement testifying to Snape's innocence before they would give him a release. He's also been placed on a Ministry watch list for any future suspicious activities."

Dumbledore said nothing and held his hand out for Snape's release papers. "That doesn't matter..." he murmured, taking the papers from Shacklebolt as though they were the most precious things in the world. "Just as long as we get him out of here now..."

With papers in hand, Dumbledore turned and strode for the other end of the hall. The others followed close behind. A tall black iron door stood there, leading deeper into the bowels of Azkaban. Dumbledore took his wand out and rapped it on the door three times. A moment of silence ensued before a small slot in the middle of the door slid open to reveal a pair of dark brown eyes.

"State your name and purpose," a sour voice on the other side hissed.

"Albus Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sirius Black, and Minerva McGonagall here with release papers for one Severus Snape, currently in Ministry custody," Dumbledore said, holding Snape's release papers up for the guard to see.

The guard's eyes darted back and forth over the documents before with a sharp look back at Dumbeldore he slammed the eye slot close and unlocked the door with a loud series of clicks. The door swung open and Dumbledore stepped through into a smaller, darkly lit room that resembled nothing so much as a dungeon cell. The others followed after him and found themselves face to face with a stringy, gaunt looking man in faded Auror robes. It appeared the prisoners were not the only ones that suffered from the Dementors' presence.

"Papers," the man curtly demanded. Dumbledore handed him the forms.

The guard paged through them, carefully reading every word. When he finally seemed satisfied the papers were official he looked up and said, "Prisoner nine-six-two-eight-three is currently in cell block F on the low security level. I would normally take you there myself, but since you already have an Auror with you-" he glanced at Shacklebolt "-I'll let him take you. I have enough work to do here as it is with no other Aurors to guard the check points. There's hardly anyone else here except those Dementors that guard the main prison blocks..." He turned to sit back down behind a small desk hidden in the corner of the room. "I'd normally have to ask you all to leave your wands here, but since you're escorting a prisoner out, you're free to keep them for your own safety."

"Why would we need them?" McGonagall said. "The person we're here to get was wrongly accused and shouldn't pose us any danger. We're here to free him."

The haggard looking guard looked up at her. "How long's he been here?"

"Four years..." Dumbledore softly supplied, the words visibly painful for him to say.

The guard shook his head. "Then you're going to need your wands. Hardly any prisoner lasts here anymore more than a few days before going insane. It's those damn Dementors. They smell fresh prey and swoop down on new prisoners like hawks. Us Aurors usually have to drive them off so new prisoners don't become suicidal before their first week's even up. If your guy's been here for as long as you say... Well, let's just say you're probably going to need your wands..."

Dumbledore and the others stared at the guard with sickened looks of horror, but the guard hardly even seemed to notice.

"Here's the key to the prisoner's cell," he said, holding an ancient looking skeleton key out to Shacklebolt. "It's number nine-one-eight. If you have any problems with the prisoner, just send out a signal and I or another Auror will come help."

Shacklebolt slowly took the key from him, looking as if he were revolted by its touch.

Ignoring the other Auror's reaction, the guard turned in his chair and aimed his wand at the other side of the room. A magical hidden door suddenly appeared and creaked open, leading to a long dark corridor.

"Cells are down the hallway to your left," the guard said, leaning back in his chair. "Whenever you get the prisoner just come back here and I'll have the rest of his release paperwork done by then. If you come across any Dementors while you're here, you're free to use any method of protection you deem fit. As far as I know you can't kill them, so the Ministry won't care. Other than that, have a nice day."

Dumbledore, Shacklebolt, Sirius, and McGonagall stared at the man for several moments of stunned silence before Dumbledore finally kicked himself into motion and started for the door. The others quickly followed after him, as though unwilling to be separated from the Headmaster.

As soon as they stepped into the corridor, the door disappeared, leaving nothing but a solid stone wall behind them. Shacklebolt, Sirius, and McGonagall all exchanged uneasy looks, but Dumbledore hardly even seemed to notice. Like a man on a mission he forged ahead down the hall, seemingly oblivious to everything else around him except reaching his intended goal.

As they went deeper into the prison, the air grew progressively colder. Darkness seemed to seep from the walls and permeate the very air they breathed. Only the dim glow of torches burning along the hallway gave off any source of light to light their way. Except for the echoing patter of their own footsteps no sound broke the oppressive silence of the hall.

The presence of Dementors was growing stronger, putting an extra chill in the air. They could tell they were nearing the main prison block. Cells began to line the hall, but they could detect no sign of life inside them. It was like they were in some kind of tomb, cut off from all outside light and hope. Truly if there was Hell on Earth it was on the godforsaken island...

Dumbledore suddenly came to a stop in front of one of the cells – a thick iron door with a rusted plaque that read '918.'

"This is it..." he murmured, staring at the door. For a moment, none of them said or did anything. After coming so far, they were suddenly reluctant to see the man they'd come to free. There was no way for them to know what four years of Azkaban had done to the acerbic Potions Master they once knew. And quite frankly, they weren't sure they really wanted to. There were just too many possibilities as to what kind of man now sat on the other side of that door.

But Dumbledore had not come so far as to turn his back and run from his sins now. "Shacklebolt, the key, please."

The Auror nodded and stepped forward to push the key into the door's rust-encrusted lock. It stuck for a moment, obviously having never had much opportunity for use. But then, with the rattling clank of the lock's internal bolts and tumblers giving way, the door creaked open several inches.

Shacklebolt immediately stepped back, leaving Dumbledore to enter the room first. Another long pause of hesitation ensued before the old Headmaster finally pulled himself together and pushed the door fully open.

The cell was dark. Only a narrow shaft of moonlight pierced the darkness from a small window on the other side of the room. The window was barred and barely even big enough for a full grown person to stick their hand through. A dank, moldy smell hung in the air, like that of an abandoned house. Cold froze the air, chilling blood to ice. There was no sound to be heard except for the soft patter of water dripping somewhere in the darkness.

Dumbledore had to wait several minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark. As objects began to emerge from the shadows Dumbledore was able to make out the dim outline of a small cot under the window. A man was sitting on it, half wreathed in shadows. Dark, stringy hair fell down around his face, obscuring it from Dumbledore's sight.

"Severus?" Dumbledore called, taking several tentative steps into the room. There was no answer from the haggard man on the bed. "Severus, we know what happened. We know you didn't set that trap."

Snape still did not respond. He just sat there, head bowed, staring at the floor.

"We know you're innocent, Severus," Dumbledore continued, desperately trying to get some kind of response from the silent man. "We know you never betrayed the Order. We know you were set up. We're here to get you out. We're going to take you home."

But for all of Dumbledore's efforts Snape didn't even move.

Slightly worried, Dumbledore glanced back at the others in the doorway. But they didn't know what to do and only helplessly stared back at him. Feeling his despair rising, Dumbledore turned his attention back to Snape.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, throwing caution to the wind and kneeling down in front of Snape like a subject begging forgiveness. "We're sorry – I'm sorry... I should have never doubted you. I was wrong. I've made a terrible mistake and made you pay for it. I know you might never be able to forgive me but, please, know that I am sorry..."

If Dumbledore had been hoping his apology would earn some kind of response from the disgraced Potions Master, he was sorely wrong. Like a lifeless statue, Snape continued to stare down at the floor, seemingly oblivious to Dumbledore's presence at his feet.

"Severus?" Dumbeldore called. When he once again did not receive any kind of answer, he tentatively reached out and took one of Snape's spidery white hands into his own. Ice cold were the Potion Master's hands, completely devoid of any human warmth.

Beginning to fear the worse, Dumbledore reached up and gently pushed back a section of dirty black hair from the Potion Master's face – and felt his last little bit of hope disappear.

No longer was there any spark of life in the Potion Master's eyes. What once held such shrewd, calculating intelligence were now nothing more than empty pools of black. They were like dead man's eyes: cold and lifeless.

Dumbledore's heart spasm with grief, his eyes filling with tears at the devastation four years in Azkaban had wrought on the wrongly accused man.

Snape was barely even recognizable anymore. His cheeks were sunken and pale – even paler then when he'd still been teaching at Hogwarts. He looked starved, his emaciated features making his characteristic hooked nose even more pronounced. His striped prison-issued clothes were dirty and threadbare – a far cry from the formal black robes he used to always wear.

Dumbledore stared at the man in front of him, trying to convince himself this was the same man he'd sent to Azkaban all those years ago. But he could see nothing of that man anymore. All he could see now was a hollow, lifeless shell...

"Albus?" a tentative voice from the doorway called. Dumbledore reluctantly tore his eyes away from Snape to find Shacklebolt, Sirius, and McGonagall watching him. Hesitantly, they also came into the room and stood in a small circle around the old Headmaster. "Albus?" McGonagall once more called. Worry tainted her voice.

Dumbledore struggled for a moment to find his voice, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

"We're too late..." he whispered, fighting to keep his grief and guilt from overcoming him as he looked back up at Snape. "We didn't get here fast enough..."

Shacklebolt slowly knelt down beside Dumbeldore in front of Snape. Upon seeing the Potion Master's vacant black eyes, the Auror heaved a heavy sigh. "Damn it..." he muttered. Though he hadn't been expecting much since talking to the guard at the check-in desk, he had still in some back part of his mind been holding out on the hope they'd find Snape not too mentally damaged from his time in Azkaban. But it appeared the guard had been right and Dementors had done their job too well.

"What are we going to do?" McGonagall hesitantly asked, staring at the haggard remains of her former colleague.

Very slowly, Dumbledore got back up to his feet. "We're getting him out of here," he said with deep conviction in his voice. Although guilt still shined brightly in the old man's eyes, McGonagall's question seemed to awaken in him a renewed vigor for freeing the jailed Potions Master. "I'll not make Severus stay one more night in this horrible place. We're getting him out of here as soon as possible and taking him back to Grimmauld Place. Maybe there with time and a little bit of patience we can help him recover from what he's had to endure..."

Despite Dumbledore's words of conviction, even he could not stop a small note of doubt from creeping into his voice.

Hiding his misgivings though, the old Headmaster unclipped his cloak and wrapped it around Snape's boney shoulders against the cold. Snape didn't blink or even seem to acknowledge Dumbledore's small offering of warmth. It was like he was lost in his own little world, far away from the one in which he'd spent the last four years of his life.

With solemn eyes, Dumbledore looked back up at the others. "Sirius, would you please help me?" he asked.

Sirius hesitated for a moment, but then obediently stepped forward. Positioning himself across from Dumbledore on Snape's other side, the two of them gently slid their hands under the Potion Master's arms and pulled him up to stand.

Snape wavered for a moment, his knees almost buckling underneath him. But Sirius and Dumbledore were there and helped steady him before he could fall. He couldn't have weighed much more than a hundred pounds.

They stood there a minute, Snape held up between them as Dumbledore sadly surveyed the Potion Master's distant, wasted face. Then with a sorrowful glance at Sirius, he softly murmured, "Let's go..."

Snape didn't resist or put up any kind of fight as Dumbledore and Sirius began to lead him out the cell with McGonagall and Shacklebolt following close behind. He docilely followed them as they guided him past the Auror at the front desk and out Azkaban's ominous stone gates. Nor did he betray any outward sign of emotion or mental presence as Dumbledore and Sirius helped him into a small wooden boat to take them back to the mainland.

It was only as they were being rowed across the cold, choppy waters that a small glint of something sparked in the Potion Master's empty black eyes. Something that promised anger and violence.

And revenge...

To Be Continued...

Like it? Hate it? Not quite sure? Feedback is much appreciated and welcome, no matter what you have to say. Please review!

I'm going on vacation for the next two weeks so the next update may be a little while in the making, but rest assure I'll be working on it. So till then, ciao!


	4. Voldemort's Spy Revealed

Oh my god! Can this be? An update? (Gasp!) It is! LOL Sorry it took so long to get an update out!

**Chapter Four: Voldemort's Spy Revealed**

Dumbledore sadly watched Snape stare out the dingy second story window he sat beside. The Potion Master's eyes were distant and blank – almost as lifeless as the glass he stared out of. If any scene registered in the man's broken mind, a bleak, overcast London sky would have met his unseeing gaze. Dreary storm clouds stretched out overhead like a thick gray blanket. Rain seemed assured, but as of yet none had still to fall.

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh and tried to turn his attention back to the stack of papers in front of him – more reports from members of the Order concerning the ongoing war effort. But try as the old Headmaster might, he could not seem to keep his restless mind from wandering back to the silent, statue-like man on the other side of the room.

It was now almost a week since Snape's release from Azkaban, yet he still had not shown any sign of mental recovery. It was like he was gone and all that remained was a hollowed shell. He never spoke or made any sort of action that let Dumbledore even fancy he might be starting to recover.

Several people had tried talking to Snape over the past week – McGonagall, Lupin, and Dumbledore – all trying to break through the years of psychological damage with soft words and gentle coaxing. It was hoped that during one of these sessions, Snape's mind might somehow be sparked by the presence of someone he used to know. Even Sirius Black and Harry had tried reaching the catatonic Potions Master. But to no avail. Not even the presence of Snape's childhood enemy and infamous student earned any kind of response from him. The Potion Master remained lost to them, wandering alone in the darkest depths of his mind where he'd fled to escape the Dementors' merciless torment.

Dumbledore felt his heart clench with guilt. It was his fault Snape was like this. This was now the second time he'd sent an innocent man to Azkaban. He kept telling himself he should have known better – that he should have learned from Sirius... But he hadn't, and had no one else to blame for his unforgivable slip of judgement except himself.

Dumbledore felt terrible. With each passing day he felt his hope of Severus someday recovering slip a little bit more. When they first brought Snape back to Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had immediately taken it upon himself to see that the catatonic Potions Master almost never left his sight. Wherever he went, so did Snape. Snape never resisted or put up any kind of fight, and mindlessly followed him whenever he was led.

Dumbledore could only hope that with time and a little bit of patience that his presence might someday break through the years of psychological damage and reach the man inside the shell.

But Dumbledore could not even begin to estimate when, or even if, that day would ever come. There was no way for him to know the extent of damage that'd been done to Severus' mind. The Dementors of Azkaban were ruthless creatures that fed off the darkest horrors and fears of a person's mind. And Dumbledore knew Severus Snape's life had not been the happiest. Who knew what horrors Snape had been forced to relive day after day all those years. It made Dumbeldore sick to think what nightmares haunted the Potion Master's mind...

The old Headmaster slowly looked back up at Snape. The Potions Master was still staring out the window, his eyes so lifeless and dull Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder if there was anything still in there worth trying to reach.

A sudden rap at the door startled Dumbledore out of his thoughts and back to the present.

"Enter," he called. Since Snape's release, Dumbledore had taken up semi-permanent residence in the Black family house. With the ongoing war against Voldemort becoming more and more desperate with each passing day, and more parents pulling their children out of school because of Hogwarts' slowly weakening defenses, Dumbledore felt his presence would be better served leading the Order of the Phoenix from its base in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place than from his office in Hogwarts. Plus, with Severus in his current state, Dumbledore didn't want to leave him.

There was a small pause before the door slowly swung open to reveal two young men standing in the door.

"Sir," said one – a sandy haired boy of about twenty-four. "Mrs. Weasely wanted us to come remind you about the meeting. Shacklebolt and Moody are ready to give their reports and other members are starting to gather downstairs."

"Thank you, Alex," Dumbledore said with a nod. "I will be down shortly."

The young man nodded and turned to leave. His companion, a darker haired youth of about the same age, lingered a moment longer in the doorway before also turning and disappearing down the hall.

Dumbledore sat for a long moment of silence staring after them, his eyes narrowed in thought. As he sat there, he caught the sound of more footsteps coming down the hall. Several moments later, the shabby figure of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black appeared in the doorway.

"Dumbledore?" Lupin called, ducking his head in the room. "The meeting is about to start."

"Yes, I know. Alex Shore and Dorian Gray just came to remind me," the old Headmaster replied.

Seeing Dumbledore's distracted expression, Sirius and Lupin both took several tentative steps into the room. "Is everything alright, Dumbledore?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and agitatedly tugged his beard. "I don't know..." he murmured.

Lupin, though, seemed to read the Headmaster's troubled thoughts, and glanced back over his shoulder towards the door. "Alex?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded.

Sirius gave a heavy sigh and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Do you still think the kid may be Voldemort's real spy?"

Dumbledore nodded and stood up from behind the desk. "Yes. After learning the truth of Severus' set up, Alex seems the most likely person behind it. He was the one who came to me and accused Severus of spying for Voldemort."

"If you suspect him then why haven't you done anything about him yet?" Sirius demanded. "If he's really a spy, he could do some major damage to the Order."

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh and began to pace along the side of the room. "I know that, but we can't do anything until we know where Alex's true loyalties lie. I have no actual proof he's a spy except my own suspicions and the fact that he was the one that convinced us Severus betrayed the Order. I've already made one mistake by jumping to conclusions before I had all the facts, and refuse to do so again..." As he said this, Dumbledore glanced over at the silent Potions Master on the other side of the room. Snape, however, didn't even seem to realize there was anyone else in the room or that they were talking about him, and merely continued staring out the window.

Dumbledore gave a disheartened sigh and turned to re-pace the room.

"Well, if we're not going to confront him, then what are we going to do?" Lupin said. "We can't just let a possible spy go running around the Order reporting everything we do back to Voldemort."

"I know that," Dumbledore sighed. "But until we gather more information we're just going to have to keep an extremely close eye on him."

Sirius gave a caustic snort and rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore chose to ignore Sirius though, and made his way over to Snape by the window. "Until we have more substantial proof, we are just going to have to watch him," Dumbledore went on. "Besides having nothing more than circumstantial evidence, we also don't want to tip Voldemort off that we might know who his spy is. If we plan this carefully, we might be able to use Alex to channel wrong information to Voldemort with and set him up for a surprise attack. If we do this right, we could possibly turn the tide of this war and end all this fighting once and for all."

Sirius and Lupin exchanged uncertain glances, but Dumbledore could still sense an air of doubt hanging over them. Sighing to himself, Dumbledore reached down and gently took Snape by the arm. The Potion Master obediently stood as Dumbledore motioned him up, but his movements were mechanical and mindless, completely devoid of any actual thought.

Leading Snape by the elbow towards the door, Dumbledore called back over his shoulder, "We'll worry more about this later. Right now we have a meeting to attend. I'll speak to Shacklebolt and Moody after the meeting about our best course of action, then figure out where we'll go from there."

Sirius glanced at Lupin as if to see what he thought about such a plan, but the gentle werewolf only gave an uncertain sigh.

"Whatever you say, Dumbledore," Lupin said, "but I feel we should do more than just keep a close eye on this boy. We've already seen what damage he could do from what happened to Snape. I don't want to see what else he can do inside our ranks."

Dumbledore paused in the doorway with his catatonic charge by his side. "I know..." he whispered. "And that's why I am going to take every precaution I can with him until we find out if he's really Lord Voldemort's spy or not."

That being said, Dumbledore turned and strode out the door, Snape mindlessly following after him.

Sirius and Lupin hesitated only a moment longer before they too started out the door after the departing Headmaster.

But as their group made its way downstairs to the meeting, all of them failed to notice the small spark of life that flashed in the Potion Master's eyes before it once again disappeared behind an impassive blank mask...

* * *

The meeting had now been going on for the better part of an hour. Almost every member of the Order was there. Amongst those gathered around the large basement table were Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Professor McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad Eye Moody, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and the whole Weasley clan, along with Alex Shore, Dorian Gray, and other close members of the Order. Snape had been seated off to the side next to the fireplace where he sat staring down into the flames, the flickering light of the fire bathing his emotionless features in dark half-shadows. Logs snapped loudly in the hearth as everyone listened to reports of the last few days.

But it was Kingsley Shacklebolt's report that currently had many members of the Order listening in grim concern.

"... other members keeping watch over the Ministry the last several days have reported spotting suspicious people hanging around the building at various times of the day before mysteriously disappearing. We're not sure who these people are, but we think they may be Death Eaters sent by Voldemort to scope out what's left of the Ministry's security," Shacklebolt said to the assembly of other members. "Last week we captured one such Death Eater outside the Ministry of Magic and interrogated him using Veritaserum. He said the Dark Lord was trying to find a way into the Department of Mysteries. But for what reason, we don't know. It seems Voldemort is becoming more cautious about what he tells his followers in case they're captured. I'm not sure what Voldemort might be after down there, but until we find out more about what he might be planning, I suggest an increased number of people guarding the Ministry and entrance to the Department of Mysteries."

A concerned murmur ran through the room.

"What could be so important that the Dark Lord would try to break into the Ministry of Magic?" Professor McGonagall spoke up. "The Ministry is all but in shambles; it poses no more threat to You-Know-Who's side."

"I don't know. That's what we're trying to find out," Kingsley replied.

"What's in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked.

Arthur Weasley was the one that answered. "No one really knows. The Department of Mysteries used to be the most tight-lipped group of people in the Ministry – only those working there actually knew what they did. There were rumors they used to do research on artifacts and other magical objects, but after the Second War broke out the department was closed and all research suspended. No one's been down there in almost three years."

"Is there anything still left down there?" Hermione asked. "Anything that Voldemort might try to use as a weapon against us?"

"Like Arthur said, no one knows what's actually down there," Moody growled from across the table. "So your guess would be as good as ours."

Another series of murmurs ran around the table.

Dumbledore held up his hand for quiet. The murmurs slowly died away. "These latest developments are most disturbing," he said, raising from his chair at the head of the table to address the room. "These continued attempts to break into the Ministry of Magic only prove Lord Voldemort is planning something. Unfortunately, we have no information as to what that might be because of our inability to infiltrate Voldemort's side with another spy since our only other spy was framed several years ago for a crime he never committed..." Here Dumbledore gave Snape a sorrowful glance out of the corner of his eye as if to see if his confession earned any kind of response from the disgraced Potions Master. If Snape heard him, he didn't show it and only continued to stare into the fire with lifeless black eyes. Dumbledore gave a disheartened sigh and tried to force himself to focus back on the situation at hand. "For some reason, Voldemort is trying to find a way into the Department of Mysteries and we must discover why. It is imperative we keep him from getting into the Ministry and getting whatever he's after."

"What are you suggesting, Dumbledore?" Lupin asked.

"What Shacklebolt did: an increased number of people guarding the Ministry at all times with additional guards at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries."

"How many people are we talking about?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Seven to eight guards around the Ministry's perimeter, and several more inside. Then at least two others placed in front of the Department of Mysteries."

"Any way of getting access to this locked department to see what's inside it?" Hestia Jones asked from the end of the table.

"Doubtful," Shacklebolt replied with a snort. "The Ministry might be in shambles but all its circles of bureaucratic red tape are still in place."

Dumbledore frowned. "Nevertheless, we must still take measures to keep Lord Voldemort from getting inside." He turned to scan the assembled room. "Guard duty will consist of four six-hour shifts a day. Duties will be assigned on a volunteer basis starting immediately." He slowly scanned the room. "Any volunteers?"

A moment of hesitation ensued as another round of murmurs broke out.

"I'll do it," Lupin finally spoke up.

"So will I," Sirius seconded.

"Moody and I will help keep watch outside the Ministry," Shacklebolt said. Mad Eye nodded his grizzled head.

"Us too," Mr. Weasley said to the nods of his two oldest sons. Fred and George looked ready to offer their services too, but were quickly stopped by a dark, warning look from Mrs. Weasley.

"I'll help," Harry said.

"You most certainly will not!" Sirius exclaimed, looking at his godson as if he'd just suggested going into Voldemort's lair and challenging him to a duel. "You are the last person to even _think_ about doing guard duty!"

The tousled-haired teenager gave Sirius a frustrated look. "But, Sirius–!"

"Your godfather's right, Harry," Dumbledore interjected. "You're not in any condition to be doing anything outside of Headquarters. These visions you keep having put you in very serious danger of Lord Voldemort. Your safety is one of the Order's number one concerns, and we are not going to put you in a position where you could become an easy target for Lord Voldemort."

"But this is just as much my war as it is anyone else's!" Harry protested. "It's been over two years since I officially joined the Order, and I have done nothing in that time except sit here and watch while others go off and fight. I should be allowed to do something useful for a change!"

"Not this time, Harry," Dumbledore said in his quiet, patient way. "Not when you are so susceptible to Lord Voldemort's mental attacks."

Harry looked ready to protest more but was quieted by a gentle touch to his arm from Hermione.

"No, Harry. Professor Dumbledore and Sirius are right," she said. "You're too much of a target for Voldemort right now. If you went out there you'd only be putting yourself and others in danger. The last time Voldemort attacked you with his mind you were unconscious for two days. It's just too dangerous. You're too valuable an asset to the Order to take such a risk. Let someone else worry about standing guard. You going out there just so you can feel like you're doing something's not worth the risk of what could happen to you if you did..."

Harry turned away from Hermione and angrily glared at the tabletop, his hands tightening into fists. "I hate this..." he muttered. "I hate having to sit around here all day not being able to do anything while Voldemort goes around killing people and getting more followers. I hate not being able to do anything to stop him..."

"I know that, Harry, but it's just not worth it," Hermione softly whispered with a commiserating pat on his arm.

Ron leaned forward and nodded. "She's right, mate. And you know how Hermione's never wrong."

Harry seemed to calm down a bit, as if accepting his friends' line of reasoning, but still sullenly glared down at the table. "It's still not fair," he murmured. "I shouldn't have to sit here and watch other people fight while I do nothing..."

Hermione gave Harry's arm another pat as if to say she understood his frustration, while Sirius gave a heavy sigh and shared a frustrated look with Lupin. Harry's desire to become actively involved in missions over the last few years had become an increasingly volatile issue between them. While Harry desperately wanted to prove himself in battle and take action against at Lord Voldemort's growing hoards of Death Eaters, his inability to keep Voldemort out of his mind made him too much of a liability and easy target to let on any missions. Almost every day he suffered visions and blinding pain in his scar that didn't go away until Voldemort cut off their connection or Harry fainted. The strain of Voldemort's attacks were beginning to show on the boy's face. Dark circles ringed Harry's once bright green eyes – eyes that were now dull and haunted by the horrors of war. A heavy shadow seemed to hang over the nineteen year-old's head, as though he had no hope of ever escaping the terrible burden he was forced to bear.

Sirius looked up and slowly met Dumbledore's gaze. A deep weariness seemed to reside in the old Headmaster's eyes, as if he could feel the weight of his many long years beginning to weigh down on him too.

With a weary sigh, Dumbledore turned back and scanned the assembled room. "Are there any more volunteers?" he asked.

Several other people raised their hands and offered their assistance. As McGonagall took note of who would cover what shift for the coming night, Alex Shore slowly raised his hand.

"I'll help, sir," he said.

"So will I," his friend Dorian seconded from beside him.

Dumbledore hesitated and glanced at Sirius and Lupin. A meaningful looked passed between them. Schooling his features, Dumbledore turned his attention back to the suspected spy.

"Thank you, Alex, but I think we have enough people now."

The boy looked taken aback. "But, sir, surely you're going to need more people if we're going to have around the clock guards at the Ministry like this."

Dumbledore made sure to keep his face carefully neutral. "I know that, Alex, but for now I'd prefer you stayed at Headquarters." Looking away from Alex, Dumbledore turned back to address the rest of the room. "Dorian, you and everyone else that offered their help will stand guard at the Ministry starting immediately. The next shift of people will relieve you in six hours–"

"But, sir, I don't understand!" Alex angrily exclaimed, rising halfway out of his chair.

Dumbledore leveled narrowed eyes at the young man. A spark of something that could only be described as anger flashed in the old Headmaster's eyes. "That is enough, Alex. We will discuss this later after the first shift returns from duty."

The boy looked ready to protest further, but just then something unexpected happened. Something that took everyone there by surprise.

With absolutely no warning at all, Severus Snape leapt up from his place by the fire and dove for the nearest person at the table. Remus Lupin happened to be that unfortunate person, and before the werewolf could even realize what was going on, had his wand violently ripped out of his hand by the suddenly lucid Potions Master.

Startled cries rang out, but were quickly cut off as Snape waved Lupin's wand over his head and incanted a particularly nasty sounding spell. Like a powerful concussion wave, all those around the Potion Master flew backwards as if thrown by some invisible force. Several were knocked to the far corners of the room still sitting in their chairs. The large table in the middle of the room was violently upended and slammed against the opposite wall.

With a vicious snarl, Snape turned and aimed his wand at the two huddled figures of Alex Shore and Dorian Gray.

"No!" Dumbledore cried, struggling to get to his feet.

But Snape didn't go after the boy Dumbledore thought he would.

For with another wave of Lupin's wand, Snape sent out a powerful body-binding curse at Dorian Gray and lifted him into the air like a marionette on strings. The dark haired boy yelled and thrashed but was unable to break the rings of magical energy holding him immobile.

A sudden transformation seemed to come over the once catatonic Potions Master. No longer were his features emotionless and blank, but now twisted into an ugly snarl of rage. A murderous fire burned in his pitch black eyes, boring into those of his helpless captive.

"So revenge is finally mine..." Snape hissed, leveling his wand at Dorian's throat. "Oh, how I wished this day would someday come..."

Dumbledore seemed to recover a bit from his initial shock and pulled himself to his feet. Everyone else stayed down where they'd been knocked down by Snape's spell, and watched as Dumbledore took several tentative steps towards the enraged man.

"Severus..." he stammered, staring at the lucid Potions Master as if unable to believe what he actually saw. "H-how? I don't understand... We all thought–"

"That I was completely and utterly out of my mind," Snape supplied with a vicious snarl. "Yes, I know. I wanted you to. I've been pretending to be insane ever since you came to get me out of that godforsaken hell hole of Azkaban."

Dumbledore stared at Snape in befuddled confusion. "But why? I don't understand..."

Snape flashed Dumbledore a murderous glare, his lips curling back in rage. "Why? _Why?_" he shrieked, staring at Dumbledore as if he couldn't believe the old man's stupidity. "So I could find out who framed me, you fool! Do you think I didn't spend every day I was forced to sit in that freezing cell thinking about someday getting my hands on the one responsible for putting me there?" He savagely turned back on Dorian still hovering immobile in the air. "And I've finally found him..."

With a flick of his stolen wand, Snape sent Dorian flying into the nearest wall. The boy hit the wall with a sickening crunch and frightened cry of pain.

"Severus, no! Stop!" Dumbledore screamed.

"Why should I?" Snape hissed, his fiery eyes never leaving his struggling captive. "This is the Dark Lord's spy you've been so unsuccessfully trying to find this past week – the one that framed me and sent me to Azkaban for spying. I think this is only minor retribution for what he's done..."

Dumbledore stared at Snape in honest confusion. "But..." He glanced at Alex still sitting huddled on the ground. "I don't understand... Alex–"

"I know you thought that boy was the one, but once again you suspected the wrong man," Snape hissed with no small amount of contempt in his voice. "You know, it's amazing what people will say or do in front of someone they think isn't listening or capable of understanding. I may have appeared senseless, but I've been paying attention to everything that's been said or done in front of me for the past week. And I've learned quite a bit from bidding my time and watching..."

"But Dorian is a trusted member of the Order," Dumbledore helplessly argued. "He's never been suspected of any foul play."

Snape's eyes dangerously flashed. "No, of course he wouldn't. This boy's been working behind the scenes and using other people to accomplish his goals ever since he infiltrated the Order."

"That's not true!" an angry cry rang out.

Snape slowly looked away from Dorian and fixed his withering gaze on Alex Shore.

The boy nervously pulled himself to his knees and faced the angry Potions Master. "Dorian's my friend. I've known him ever since we both joined the Order. I'd know if he was spying for the Dark side..."

Snape's eyes narrowed, his features darkening with some undefined emotion. "As if you'd ever see it..." he whispered. "You were the one he was using."

Alex's eyes widened, uncertainly flickering between Snape and his friend. "That's not true..." he weakly protested. "Dorian would never do that..."

Some unfamiliar emotion passed over the Potion Master's face. For a brief moment of time it almost looked like he took pity on the young man – as if he understood that singular, poignant stab of pain that went through the heart the moment a person realized he'd been used and his trust misplaced. But as quickly as the emotion touched the Potion Master's face, it was gone again behind a cold, emotionally blank mask.

"For a Ravenclaw you are pathetically naive..." he observed with a sneer. "He's been using you since the first day you met." Fixing a piercing glare on the younger man he began to question in a knowing voice, "Who gave you the false information about me spying for the Dark Lord? Who was the one that suggested you take it to Dumbledore and expose me? It was Gray wasn't it? I've been watching you this entire week and seen how you listen to everything he says! Does everything he suggests without ever thinking for yourself! You are so blinded by your so called "friendship" you can't even see how he manipulates you."

"That's not true!" Alex angrily yelled, "He'd never do that!"

But Snape could tell the boy no longer really believed that. The watery shine of tears in his eyes told him so.

"If you want my advice-" he softly whispered, as if finally taking some small amount of pity on the poor boy's pain "-never trust anyone again. It will ultimately only bring you heartache..."

"Alex, no! Don't listen to him!" Dorian frantically cried from where he still hung in the air wrapped in Snape's body-binding curse. "He's lying!"

Like an angry snake, Snape whipped back around on Dorian and leveled his wand at the boy's throat. "I would be quiet if I were you," he hissed. "You've spread enough of your lies and it's time you finally paid for them."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Dorian vehemently protested, still struggling against Snape's curse. "I've never spied for the Dark Lord. You're completely insane! Azkaban must have messed you up more in the head than we originally thought!"

Something akin to murder flashed in the Potion Master's eyes. "Don't condescend me about Azkaban when it was _you_ that put me there!" he roared. "I remember you," he hissed, taking several steps closer to the immobile man. "You were in Slytherin, weren't you? I remember how you used to always go around attaching yourself to other people – manipulating them into doing what you wanted with sly talk and deceptive lies. No one else ever seemed to notice, though, except for me. You were too clever to let those you were using see it. I suppose that was why the Dark Lord sent you to infiltrate the Order – no one would ever suspect you... You were smart enough to sabotage the Order through other people than put yourself in the spotlight. That way no one would ever think you were the one actually responsible. It also made it easier for you to spy. The less people noticed you, the less likely it'd be you'd get caught. Until now, that is..."

"You're crazy! You're completely crazy! Someone help me!" Dorian cried, frantically looking around the crowded room. But no one moved to help him.

"It was you that set that trap four years ago for the Order, wasn't it? It was you that gave Alex Shore false information that I'd betrayed the Order and told him he should go to Dumbledore with it. And it was _you_ that's really been spying for the Dark Lord all this time, wasn't it? _Wasn't it_!"

"I don't know what you're talking about! You're completely crazy!" Dorian screamed, still frantically looking around the room for help.

But Snape was not about to relinquish his advantage just yet. "Am I?" he hissed. "Then how do you explain this?" In one fluid motion, Snape seized Dorian's left arm and pushed his sleeve up over his elbow. Then waving Lupin's wand over the boy's inner forearm, he murmured a powerful Disillusion Spell.

A startled gasp went through the room at what the spell revealed. Dumbledore stumbled backwards in disbelief.

For burned into the young man's forearm like a hideous black tattoo was Voldemort's Dark Mark.

Snape's eyes bored into his captive's, as if daring him to try and deny what was there. But the young man knew his cover was blown.

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" he hissed, meeting Snape's baleful gaze with his own. "Getting into the Order was almost too easy. Once I met Alex, it was like a free ticket into the enemy's stronghold. No one ever suspected I might be the Dark Lord's real spy. Dumbledore's too idealistic for his own good – he doesn't want to believe any of his younger members could possibly work for the Dark side. That was why it was so easy to frame you. You were already a known Death Eater with a past. Who would ever believe you were innocent if I made it look like you betrayed the Order?"

"But why frame me?" Snape demanded. "You ran the risk of being exposed when you set that trap and accused me. Why didn't the Dark Lord just kill me than go to all this trouble to have you set me up?"

"Because I knew you'd figure out what I was doing and expose me if I left you where you were," Dorian replied with a scowl. "Plus the Dark Lord thought it would be more fitting a punishment if those you were spying for turned against you. He said being sent to Azkaban by Dumbledore would be a better punishment than anything he could have done."

A murderous fire began to burn in the Potion Master's eyes. "You're right about that..." he hissed, taking several steps closer to the immobile man. With dangerous slowness, he dug the tip of Lupin's wand up under Dorian's chin, and stared him in the eyes. "I should kill you right here you know..." he whispered, his black gaze boring into his captive's. The first hint of fear began to shine in Dorian's eyes. "It was your fault I spent the last four years of my life rotting away in that godforsaken hell hole. It was your fault I lost everything I had and more. I should kill you right now where you stand. It would be so easy..." Snape dug the tip of Lupin's wand a little bit deeper into Dorian's throat, eliciting a frightened cry of pain from his prisoner.

"Severus, don't!" Dumbledore cried, taking several steps towards the angry Potions Master. "Please don't do it! He's not worth it! You're better than that! That's not who you really are!"

"Stay out of this, old man! This is between me and him!" Snape screamed. A wild, crazy light began to burn in the Potion Master's eyes, making Dumbledore wonder if some small part of Snape really wasn't insane. "What would you know about who I really am anyway? You thought I was terrible enough to betray the Order and kill all those people. You never once thought I might be innocent, so how the hell do you get off telling me you know who I really am?"

"No, Snape, listen to him! It's not worth it!" another voice from the other side of the room yelled. Snape slowly looked away from Dorian to see Sirius Black pull himself up off the ground and face him.

"Listen to him, Snape," Sirius said, slowly meeting the Potion Master's gaze. "Killing Dorian in revenge won't change anything that's happened to you. You might get some small amount of satisfaction from it now, but it won't make you any better than he is. I should know... I was in the same situation you're in now. Revenge seems like such an easy option, but in reality it solves nothing. Don't stoop to his level. You're better than that."

"Shut up, Black!" Snape roared. "You know nothing about what I'm going through! As if you'd ever know what being betrayed and left to rot by those you were foolish enough to trust feels like... If I kill him then at least I can be sent to Azkaban for a crime I actually committed!"

"Severus, please," Dumbledore begged, holding his hands out to the side pleadingly. "Don't kill him. It was just as much my fault as it was his you were sent to Azkaban. I should have known better than to ever believe him. I should have known you would never betray the Order. You've changed since you first came to me that day wanting to escape Lord Voldemort's influence. You're no longer that man that took the Dark Mark all those years ago. Even if I was too foolish not to see it then, I know it now. You're better than that. You've changed. You're a righteous man that's done everything you could to make up for your past mistakes, even to the point of risking your own life to do so. I was just too stupid to see it then. Please... don't throw that away now..."

Dumbledore saw Snape falter for a moment, though his wand still did not leave Dorian's throat.

"You're right, old man. I _have _changed..." Snape hissed. "I'm smarter now. I've learned not to trust people or believe there's any such thing as justice in this world except for the kind I make myself." Dorian gave a frightened whimper as Snape dug his wand a little bit deeper into his throat.

"Severus, _please_," Dumbledore begged. "Don't do it..."

A standoff ensued. No one moved or even seemed to breathe as they waited in tense silence to see what Snape would do. The Potion Master seemed frozen, as if torn by some internal battle. His wand shook at Dorian's throat as if he were fighting with himself not to incant the deadly Killing Curse he so desperately wanted to use. Dorian's muffled whimpers of fear were the only thing to break the tense silence of the room.

Dumbledore felt as though time had suddenly stopped. Nothing else seemed to exist except for Snape and his young captive hanging helplessly in the air. He could feel the tension steadily mounting. Shacklebolt and Moody were starting to slowly get to their feet. If something didn't happen soon, Dumbledore knew they were going to have to jump in and take action.

Snape was still glaring at Dorian, his wand aimed at the spy's throat. Shacklebolt and Moody were starting to slowly pull their wands out of their robes.

But then, just when Dumbledore thought Shacklebolt and Mad Eye were about to make their move, Snape suddenly dropped his wand and stepped back from the other man. As if whatever invisible force had been holding him up suddenly disappeared, Dorian crashed to the ground in a jumbled heap.

Snape stared at the crumbled form at his feet with contempt. "Take him away," he said, stepping away to let Shacklebolt and Moody in. "I'm not going to become like those I once fought so hard against..."

The two Aurors quickly moved in and pulled Dorian to his feet. The boy struggled and yelled as they conjured more magical restraints and began to drag him from the room.

"It doesn't matter what happens to me!" he cried over his shoulders as Shacklebolt and Moody wrestled him towards the door. "The Dark Lord will prevail! He will send others to take my place and you will never find out who they are! No one can stand up to the Dark Lord's power! He will defeat you all! No one can stop him! You are all doomed! It is only a matter of time! The Dark Lord will prevail!"

And then they were gone.

For a moment, no one said or did anything. Silence hung in the air as everyone there stared after the shouting boy, still reeling with shock from everything that'd just transpired.

Snape stood silent in the middle of the room, his head bowed to the ground as if lost in haunted thought. Lupin's wand hung loose in his hand by his side. Thick curtains of black hair fell down around his face, obscuring it from sight.

As if finally regaining his senses, Dumbledore took several hesitant steps towards the silent Potions Master.

"Severus, I–"

"No. Don't," Snape sharply cut him off. "I don't want to hear it..."

"Severus, please. I'm so sorry. I should have known better. There is no excuse for what I did. I–"

"You're right! There is no excuse!" Snape snapped, spearing Dumbledore with fiery black eyes. "I spent the last four years of my life rotting in a cell because you were too lazy to use a dose of Veritaserum or even ask me if I'd actually done it! I thought you of all people would have believed me or at least given me the benefit of the doubt. But instead you were the first one to turn on me! I trusted you!" Snape spat, his clenched fists shaking by his side. "I trusted you with my life! I would have died for you! But instead you turned your back on me and left me to rot in prison like some kind of piece of trash!"

Dumbledore looked as if a stake was being driven through his heart with every painful word Snape spat at him. "Severus, _please,_" he begged with anguished tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry..."

But Snape was unmoved. "Just leave me alone, old man. I don't want anything else to do with you or your Order. I've already seen what you do with those under you. I can see now that I was nothing but an expendable resource to you – just something that could be thrown away and forgotten once it outlived its usefulness. But I won't be used like that anymore. I won't play the part of your pawn..."

Snape fell silent for a moment as though trying to collect himself and his jumbled, angry thoughts. Angrily tossing Lupin's wand to the ground, he threateningly hissed, "Hear me, old man, and believe me when I say this: I never want to see you or anyone else from the Order ever again. Don't look for me or try to contact me because I don't want anything to do with you ever again. You are dead to me..."

Then turning his back on Dumbledore, Snape swept towards the door.

"Severus..." Dumbledore called, desperately staring after the angry Potions Master. "Please... I'm so sorry..."

Snape paused at the doorway, his back still to Dumbledore. For a moment, it almost looked like he was considering the old Headmaster's apology. But then, glancing back over his shoulder, he softly whispered, "Not as sorry as I am for ever trusting you."

And then he was gone.

To Be Continued...

So... was that what anyone was expecting? Reviews, as always, are much appreciated. Please leave me something to look at!

Till next time!


	5. Aftermath

Okay... Who's finished "Half-Blood Prince" yet? Well, I guess I should ask who hasn't? Ugh, what a horrible plot twist at the end! I was literally sitting there in shocked devastation staring at the book thinking: "No... no, no, no, no, _NO!_" But I refuse to take what happenedin "Lightening-Struck Tower" at face values... As someone else said in a review, I have my theories... But that's a different set of plot lines I won't be going into. Despite the events of HBP (don't worry, I'm not going to give away any spoilers), I will still be writing my stories as I originally started. I'm just going to pretend like I never read HBP! So have no fear of spoilers, or plot line or character developments doing a sudden three-sixty. Everything remains as AU here as it originally started.

Before you go, I just want to give a big thanks out to everyone the read and reviewed the last chapter! Hope everyone likes this one!

So without further ado, I give you:

**Chapter Five: Aftermath**

For many years now the people of Pengersick Cross had claimed the house that sat just outside their small, rural town was haunted. Many told stories of evil spirits roaming its darkened halls and seeing lights of unholy specters move across its windows in the dead of night. Few dared go near the old estate except for a few adventurous teenagers every year – usually on the dare of one of the their friends. But even then, they never ventured farther than the house's dilapidated fence.

And for good reason.

The house had long ago fallen into an extreme state of neglect. It's windows were dark and caked with years of filth and grime. Broken shutters banged dolefully in the wind and slapped against the house's dingy clapboard sides. Moss and ivy hung from its eves and gables, perpetuating its already dismal state of neglect. Weeds choked the front yard, seeming to warn any intruders from trying to cross its fallow land.

Although rundown and forgotten, it was not impossible to see the house had once been grand and ornate – possibly the property of some rich lord. But no one really remembered the owners of the old house. Only several older members of the town remembered ever seeing the man and woman that used to live there. If asked what they remembered of them, they would say that they only remembered them being very reclusive and strange in their bearing.

But what little had been known had slowly deteriorated over the years until the story of the old house at the end of Spinner's Road had become nothing more than a ghostly legend.

And so it remained a place of ghosts and mystery.

Until the dawn of one cold and dreary day...

A dense fog hung over the ground like a ghostly shroud. The old dilapidated house seemed to float on the edge of another world not of this own. Tendrils of mist swirled and twisted in the air, stirred by the approach of a dark figure coming up the road.

The mysterious figure slowly materialized out of the fog like a ghostly apparition and swept up the lane towards the house. It wore long black robes and a hood drawn up over its face, obscuring any features from sight.

If any of Pengersick Cross' superstitious townsfolk had been there to see such an apparition approach the old house, they would have said it was surely one of the house's many specters returning from a night of ghostly wandering.

But the figure that swept up the house's rotting steps was no ghost or spirit. For as it came to the door, a pale white hand appeared out of the apparition's billowing black sleeve and pressed itself against the door's weatherbeaten surface. A low strain of words echoed through the thick, rolling fog. And then – as if by magic – the door creaked open to admit the stranger.

Stepping into the dark entrance hall beyond, the figure slowly reached up and pulled the hood back from his face. A haggard, hooked-nose face framed by curtains of stringy black hair appeared.

Severus Snape looked round the entrance hall with dull, weary eyes. He'd hoped he'd never have to see this place again. When he first left at the age of seventeen, he'd hoped he'd never have to step foot in his parent's house again. The Snape family house was not a place that held many fond memories for him. But he had had nowhere else to go, and the only other place he could have gone was number twelve Grimmauld Place, and he refused to ever go back there again. Which left only his natal home...

Snape stepped deeper into the house, the floorboards creaking ominously under his feet. Though dust and cobwebs choked every available surface, the inside was in much better condition than one would have thought from the outside. With a little work it could be made livable again...

But Snape didn't get a chance to ponder any future renovations plans more, for just at that moment there was a soft _pop_ and a small creature dressed in torn and dirty rags suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Master Severus," it squeaked, bowing so low its large droopy ears brushed the ground. "Faener not think you ever come back!"

Snape looked only mildly surprised to see his parent's old family house-elf. "Faener..." he drawled. "I was not expecting to find you still here."

With tears brimming in its overlarge eyes, the house-elf clutched the hem of Snape's robes. "Master Severus!" it joyfully exclaimed. "You's been gone so long! Master said you never come back! Poor Faener thought he'd be all alone after Master and Mistress died! Master said you'd never come back!"

Snape scowled. "I bet my father did..." he growled. Tobias Snape and his son had not parted on the best of terms. Snape (the younger) was actually surprised he'd been able to get into the old family house. He'd been half expecting to find some sort of spell around the place that would have prevented him from entering. Perhaps his father had put up such a spell years ago, but it'd just vanished when the old wizard passed away. Not that Severus would ever know for sure, that was. He wouldn't have put it past his father to do such a thing though... Lord only knew how violent their last confrontation had been. Somehow Snape couldn't see his father not doing something that would have made it impossible for his estranged son to enter the house while he'd still been alive.

Whatever the case, though, he was there now. And there was nothing his deceased father could do about it now.

Looking down at the tiny creature still clutching his robes, Snape softly asked, "Have you been here alone this entire time?"

The old house-elf stared at Snape with watery brown eyes. "Yes, Master Severus. Faener been all alone. He been alone ever since Master died. He thought no one ever come back. That why house so bad. Faener so sorry. Faener bad house-elf. Faener not keep house clean for Master Severus. Faener should punish himself for not being good house-elf..."

"You will do no such thing," Snape hissed.

Snape must have put more force into his command than he thought, for the tiny house-elf cringed away from him as though expecting to be hit. Snape inwardly cursed at the sight of house-elf's fear and immediately lowered his voice to a very calm and schooled tone. He blamed his father for the house-elf's fear. The elder Snape never did have any respect for servants. Severus didn't want to think about what kind of abuse Faener must have suffered while in his father's servitude to make him so afraid of being struck.

"I don't want you to ever punish yourself again, no matter what you think you might have done to deserve it," Snape said, keeping his voice carefully calm, though stern. "This is no longer my father's house, and I refuse to run it in such a barbaric fashion. Is that understood, Faener?"

"Yes, Master," Faener whispered.

"Good," Snape nodded. "I do want this house cleaned up though. I am taking over ownership of it and will not live in such a state of disrepair. I am not expecting any immediate miracles, but I do expect you to start on it tomorrow."

Faener nodded his head eagerly, as though he'd been waiting for this day to come forever. "Oh, of course, Master Severus! Anything! Master Severus such a good master! Faener do anything for him! Faener clean house right away! Will start now!"

Snape nodded in satisfaction and stood straight. "Very well... Tomorrow I also want you to buy any necessary foodstuff and supplies we might need. I will give you instructions on how to get money from my vault in Gringotts, but I want it done discretely. I don't want anyone to know whose family you serve."

"Of course, Master Severus," Faener said, bowing low. Keeping his eyes humbly turned down, the old house-elf then softly asked in what could have only be described as nervous embarrassment, "Does master want anything to eat now? House does not have much since Master died, but Faener will find something for Master Severus if master wants..."

Snape shook his head. "No. I don't want anything now except sleep... You have your orders, Faener. I don't want to be disturbed for at least another eight hours."

"Yes, Master Severus," Faener said, humbly bowing at the waist. "Faener not disturb you once!"

And then the house-elf disappeared with another small _pop_ to some unknown part of the house.

Snape stood for a moment of silence before slowly turning towards the stairs to second floor. A part of him wanted to explore the rest of the house and see how it had lasted the last twenty or so years since his parents' deaths, but he was so tired all he wanted to do right then was lie down and sleep. The journey to Pengersick Cross had been much harder than he'd expected. There was no longer any direct Floo connection to the house, nor any other house in the surrounding area. (For reasons beyond Snape's understanding, his father – a descendent of a proud, pure-blooded line of wizards – had settled his family in a tiny, out of the way Muggle village near the border of Scotland.) Snape supposed he could have tried Apparating directly there. But because of the protective wards his father had placed around the house years before Severus was even born, he was pretty sure no one could Apparate within a mile of the old estate. Which left only walking in from outside the protected zone...

Snape was just glad he'd been able to obtain a new wand so soon so he could Apparate even that far. Ollivander had been most displeased by his unexpected visit to his shop in the middle of the night. But the old wand maker had gotten over it fairly quickly. Snape had been very... assertive in his need for a new wand. And _immediately_...

Thirteen inches, ebony, with a unicorn hair core. It didn't quite have the same kick as his old wand, but it would do. It was just a shame that his old wand had been snapped when he'd been arrested. It had been such a personal item...

Snape immediately cut that line of thought off before it could go much further, and forced himself back to the present. He didn't want to think about his arrest, Azkaban, or anything else to do with the last four years of his life for a very long time. If ever...

The second floor was as dusty and dark as the first. Snape carefully made his way down the hall to the last room on the right. With only the slightest of hesitations before opening the door, Snape entered.

Stepping into the darkened room, the Potions master slowly looked around. It was his old bedroom. A large four poster bed sat on the far left side of the room, its hangings ragged and moth-eaten. Several bookshelves lines the opposite wall. A writing desk and bureau sat directly opposite the door. A thick layer of dust and cobwebs covered everything. The windows were a dirty, opaque color from all the years of grime coating the glass. From the looks of it, no one had entered or touched anything in the room for the past twenty years.

Snape slowly made his way over to the bookshelves and ran one spidery finger along the rows of books. A pang of some emotion Snape couldn't quite define went through his heart as he traced the line of dusty spines. Many of the books that filled the shelves were books Snape remembered reading as a child. Beginner Potions books and historical accounts of famous witches and wizards were only some of the topics to be found on the dusty shelves.

Suddenly stopping, Snape pulled one book from the rest and turned it over in his hands. **Journey Into the Mystic Realm of the Dark Arts, by Cesar Letheton** said the cover in large gold print.

A small frown spread across Snape's face as he stared at the dusty tome. It was one of the first books he remembered ever reading about the Dark Arts. One of the first books to spark his interest in the checkered subject, and later obsession. In a way, it was one of the reasons he ever considered becoming a Dark wizard. The powers and possibilities Cesar Letheton talked about in his book were some of the first influences Snape had had in later taking Lord Voldemort's Dark Mark. Everything Letheton talked about in his book had sounded so easy and simple then; so totally devoid of consequences or regret...

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Snape tossed the book to the ground. A cloud of dust billowed up into the air where it landed. Turning his back on the offending book, Snape swept back towards the bed.

He didn't want to think about that right now. He didn't want to think about Voldemort, his Dark Mark, or any of the other things his interest in the Dark Arts had ultimately made him to suffer.

He didn't want to deal with any of that right now. He just wanted to forget.

Coming up alongside the bed, Snape pulled his wand out of his robes and waved it over the bed. A new set of sheets and bedcovers appeared. A faint smell of dust still hung in the air, but Snape didn't care. After four years of Azkaban, a dusty pillow was like a gift from heaven.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Snape wearily leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his head hanging down his chest.

He was so tired. So tired of trying to forget and pretend like nothing happened. So tired of trying to hide the pain...

Lifting his head, Snape slowly pulled back the sleeve from his left forearm. Burned into his skin like some horrible black tattoo was Lord Voldemort's Dark Mark.

Snape rubbed a hand over his branded forearm. The skin around the Dark Lord's mark was red and inflamed. It pained him almost constantly – had ever since his arrest. Snape supposed it was Voldemort's last parting gift to him as a constant reminder of his betrayal.

Snape stared at the Dark Mark. It was ironic that the mark that helped him spy for the Light side for so long was what ultimately also led to them arresting him. Because of that one mark, he'd automatically been labeled a criminal and traitor. Even when he'd risked his life to help them fight Lord Voldemort...

A stab of hurt and anger went through the Potion master's heart.

He had done _everything_ he could to help them! He had risked his life to gather information and work inside Voldemort's Death Eaters for the good of the Order, and how had they repaid him? By arresting him and throwing him in prison for the last four years of his life, that's how!

Snape angrily pulled his sleeve back down and closed his eyes, trying to block out memories of that fateful night. He still remembered the look in Dumbledore's eyes when Moody and Shacklebolt arrested him. That look that said he believed what everyone else thought – that he was a traitor and spy. That he was no better than the ones they were fighting against. Even after everything he'd done to help the Order...

Snape supposed he really couldn't blame them. It seemed somehow fitting that no one had ever trusted him. His whole life revolved around secrets and lies. That, after all, was a spy's job – to lie and deceive. So who could ever trust a spy?

But somehow that thought did nothing to lessen the hurt in Severus Snape's heart.

He had trusted his life to Dumbledore – would have died for him if the old man had only asked it! But what had Dumbledore gone and done with that trust? He had turned around and abandoned him! _Betrayed _him! Did the very thing they accused him of doing!

Snape felt his anger brewing, felt all his feelings of resentment and hurt beginning to boil up inside him.

He should have known to never trust Dumbledore. The old man was always looking out for others – the ones, he should say, that never strayed from the straight and narrow path, or ran from the constant memories of their past mistakes. He should have known that Dumbledore would one day forget all the things he'd done to try and make up for his mistakes and only remember the things he'd told him he'd done while in Lord Voldemort's service...

He'd done so much to try and make up for his mistakes. Had ultimately gone to prison for them, though not for the crimes he was actually guilty of...

Snape held his head, trying to shut out the pain in his heart. He didn't want to think about Dumbledore now. He didn't want to think about the Order or anything else to do with his past life ever again. He just wanted to put everything behind him and move on. He just wanted to forget.

But he knew even then he never would. He knew he'd never be able to fully forget Dumbledore's betrayal or the pain he'd suffered because of the old man's stupidity.

Very slowly, Snape pulled the sleeve back from his forearm and stared at the hideous black mark underneath.

The Dark Side had seemed like such an easy choice when he was younger. It had offered him so many possibilities to block out the pain in his own heart that it had seemed like the only choice he had to escape the demons that haunted his mind.

A part of him wanted to go back to that life. When one was a Dark wizard you didn't have to think about emotions or feelings. You didn't have to feel the pain of rejection or betrayal. There was only power. Pure, raw power that helped fill up that cold, aching emptiness in your heart.

But Snape knew he could never go back to the Dark Side – _wouldn't_! He had already walked that path and seen that it brought no one true happiness or escape. It only perpetuated the pains one was trying to avoid, and somehow made them even more poignant and pronounced.

He refused to do that to himself again. He refused to grovel and sweep at a Dark Lord's feet just so he could make himself forget the pains of his own life. He wouldn't do that again.

But he also wouldn't ever go back to Dumbledore. The old man's betrayal had hurt him in more ways than Snape ever thought someone could. A part of him wanted revenge for his broken trust. A part of him wanted to ravage and rave until everyone else around him knew what it was like to have someone stab a proverbial knife into your heart and twist. Maybe then they'd understand how he felt...

But Snape sharply cut that line of thought off. What he was thinking was skimming dangerously close to the line of thought of someone considering going back to the Dark Side. He'd already seen the consequences of choosing that particular path and had no desire to taste the bitterness of those feelings ever again.

Still, Snape thought as he stared at the outline of his skull and serpent brand, it would be so easy to go back...

* * *

A low fire burned in the fireplace as Dumbeldore stared into the dregs of his empty tea cup. The room was dark and bathed in long, dancing shadows. The old headmaster did nothing to repel the darkness though. It suited his dark and melancholic mood.

A soft knock came from the door, making Dumbledore pull himself away from his distant thoughts.

"Come in," he called in a tired voice.

The door slowly opened to reveal Sirius Black standing in the doorway. "I was just coming to remind you about the meeting, Dumbledore," he said, ducking his head into the room. "It's going to be starting soon."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, yes..." he murmured in a distracted sort of way that instantly told Sirius his mind was a million miles away. "I seem to need a lot of reminding these days..."

Sirius' face betrayed his concern for the old headmaster, and he slowly stepped into the room. As if reading Dumbledore's troubled thoughts, he knowingly asked, "You still thinking about Snape?"

The pained look that flashed across the headmaster's face confirmed everything Sirius already suspected.

"Yes..." Dumbledore murmured, turning in his chair to stare at the fire. "This is all my fault. If I'd not allowed myself to be swayed by the word of another person, none of this would have happened."

Sirius seemed to come already anticipating Dumbledore's declarations of self-recrimination and guilt, and instantly replied: "You can't blame yourself, Dumbledore. I saw the evidence that kid had on Snape myself. It was iron-clad – or at least it seemed to be... I never doubted for a second it was real. All that information he had on the different missions Death Eaters seemed to already know about before even lower members of the Order knew was too accurate to think he'd made it up. He really made it look like Snape had been the one spying against the Order. You weren't the only one that was fooled so you can't blame yourself. Plus Snape was never the innocent little victim you're making him out to be. You can hardly pretend he had a squeaky clean past."

Dumbledore shook his head obstinately. "You don't understand, Sirius. Besides destroying an innocent man's life, I can't help but feel I might have also doomed the Light side from ever defeating Voldemort. Severus was the only one that was ever able to infiltrate Voldemort's side. After he was arrested, we lost all inside information on any of Voldemort's plans. We've been running blind these last four years, and it's all because of me..."

Sirius took a seat opposite Dumbledore and solemnly held the old headmaster's gaze with his own. "Now I think you're starting to take this too far," he said. "We're not going to win or lose this war solely because of one person – Snape least of all. I don't think there was much you could have done anyway. Voldemort already suspected Snape was spying for us and had him set up. If anything, you putting him in prison saved his life. Voldemort would have probably just killed him otherwise."

Dumbledore seemed only slightly heartened by this attempt to assuage his guilt. "I still put an innocent man in prison though," he murmured, his haunted blue eyes darkening with guilt. "Surely you of all people should understand how terrible a crime that is."

Sirius quieted and studied Dumbledore's profile in the firelight for several moments of thoughtful silence. "I do..." he finally replied, his voice carefully devoid of emotion.

"Then how can you sit there and tell me I bear no blame for what happened? I do not excuse my lapse of judgement for your incarceration, but what I did to Severus was inexcusable. I did nothing to try and find out if he was actually guilty or not. I didn't even ask for a dose of Veritaserum."

"Veritaserum is a flawed method of lie detecting," Sirius countered. "It's easily fooled if someone is smart enough, and it usually doesn't even work if the person being drugged knows he's drinking it. So using Veritaserum on Snape wouldn't have meant anything even if it had made it look like he was innocent. He's too smart for something as simple as that."

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. "I suppose..." he murmured. "I still should have done something to find out if he was actually guilty though. He didn't deserve to spend the last four years of his life in prison because of me."

Sirius didn't immediately answer, the resentment of his own wrongful imprisonment still a source of lingering bitterness for him.

But such bitterness didn't last for long. With one look at the other wizard's face, Sirius couldn't help but feel a small stab of pity go through his heart. It was obvious Dumbledore's guilt was real and heartfelt – not just some over exaggerated show of contrition. The haunted look in his eyes and the tired care lines creasing his face said as much. There was no way for Sirius to deny the reality of Dumbledore's ongoing guilt for his and Snape's arrests.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Sirius met Dumbledore's eyes with a steady, unwavering gaze. "Dumbledore, you made a mistake. There's nothing more you can do about it now. You can't keep pulling yourself apart like this just because Snape stormed out of here the way he did. Given time, I think he'll realize what you did was for what you thought was the better good of the Order. Right now he needs to come to grips with what happened to him. He needs time before he can move on or listen to anything you have to say."

Dumbledore dropped his gaze and seemed to mull that over for a second. Then, with a hesitant but slightly more hopeful look in his eyes, he looked back up at Sirius. "You were in the same position he was, Sirius. Do you think he'll ever be able to forgive me and come back?"

Sirius noticeably hesitated. "Snape always was of a different ilk..." was all he could say in way of a response.

Dumbledore was visibly disheartened.

Sirius noted the headmaster's dejected countenance, and tentatively asked, "Do you think Snape would ever go back to the Dark side?"

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "I don't know... I don't know what all this might lead Severus to do. He was always so easily wounded and quick to lash back. I'm afraid to think what this might have done to him ever trusting someone else again – me or anyone else from the Order least of all."

Sirius gave a small snort and met the sharp glance Dumbledore shot him with unruffled aplomb. "Snape might have been a greasy, bad-tempered git, but even I think you're underestimating him," he said with unfazed coolness. "He was always cleaver and intelligent enough not to repeat past mistakes, so I don't think he'd ever go back to the Dark side – especially now. Like I said, I think all he needs is time. And then, if he's desperate enough to want to help see this war end, he'll come back. But as to when that might be, I'm not going to even venture a guess what kind of thoughts are going through his sneaky little brain. That is a viper pit I'd rather leave untouched."

Despite himself, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile at Sirius' familiar backhanded compliments and disdain for his childhood enemy. Sometimes Dumbledore wondered if some of Snape and Sirius' animosity didn't stem from their personalities being more similar to each other than what either of them were willing to admit.

Nevertheless, some of the things Sirius had said had more than just a small ring of truth to them.

"Thank you, Sirius, for that brutally honest assessment," Dumbledore said, a small, lopsided grin twisting his lips. "I forget it sometimes takes a younger, more distanced view of things to see through an old man's emotional hangups. I fear the older I get, the more I want to take responsibility for everything around me – and usually the bad things more than the good." Getting up, Dumbledore set his empty tea cup aside and turned towards the door. "You've given me a lot to think about, Sirius, and I truly do thank you. I just wish I had as much faith you do in Severus someday coming back. I know if I was in the same position he is, and someone did to me what I did to him, I would be very reluctant to ever return..."

Dumbledore trailed off and stood there for several moments of unbroken silence, staring at the floor with a distant look in his eyes. But then, as if recovering from his momentarily lapse of unhappy thoughts, he forced himself to give Sirius a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Forgive me," he said. "Force of habit. Happens more often the older I get... Now, I believe we have a meeting to go to. Shall we go down?" Then turning towards the door, the old headmaster left, not even waiting to see if Sirius followed.

The ex-fugitive stayed where he was for several more minutes of thoughtful silence, staring after Dumbledore with an unreadable expression.

So Dumbledore didn't think Snape was ever going to come back? Well he was just going to have to see about that...

To Be Continued...

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Please review!


	6. An Important Decision

Hey everyone! I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but things have been so busy lately, I've been having trouble finding time to write. I'm pleased to say though that I'm now safely in Japan and having the time of my life. Thanks to everyone that read and reviewed the last chapter and hope you like the new one.

Enjoy!

**Chapter Six: An Important Decision**

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**DIAGON ALLEY ATTACKED!  
WAR AGAINST DARK LORD WORSENING**

Famous wizard shopping district, Diagon Alley, was rocked today by a vicious attack by a band of Death Eaters. Although many of Diagon Alley's once bustling shops and businesses have closed or been abandoned since the outbreak of attacks by You-Know-Who's followers on the general public (both Wizarding and Muggle) several years ago, many still frequent the area to do necessary shopping. Yesterday around noontime - the busiest time of business for the dying shopping district - a group of masked Death Eaters stormed the area, attacking anyone in the area with seemingly no ultimate goal other than to kill and destroy. Several building were set on fire and left to burn. Over thirty six Alley patrons were injured in the attack and had to be taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. Fifteen were killed (see Obituaries pg 5 for full listing).

Aurors were quick to rush to the scene, but by the time officials got there, many of the Death Eaters had already escaped. Theodore Dilmore, one of the Aurors dispatched to try and counterattack the attack was quoted saying, "These attacks are becoming more frequent and worse in nature everyday. These senseless acts of violence against innocent people not directly involved in the war seem to suggest You-Know-Who is getting stronger and more sure of himself and his ability to waste manpower on these strategically meaningless attacks. If something isn't done soon, You-Know-Who is going to become too powerful for the Ministry to stop."

Kingsley Shacklebolt, another Auror interviewed at the site of the grisly attack, tried to dispel these growing concerns of the Ministry's weakening defenses by saying, "The Ministry is doing everything it can to keep people safe. We have Aurors working around the clock to try and prevent such attacks like the one that happened today. But because of the Dark Lord's growing number of Death Eaters, it is becoming difficult for us to respond to all these attacks in time. There is currently a lack of enough Aurors for us to patrol everywhere at once, but that doesn't mean we aren't doing everything in our ability to prevent attacks like this one and respond to threats as quickly as possible when they happen. The Ministry is already taking steps to increase security in highly populated areas such as Diagon Alley, and to introduce a faster method of alerting Aurors to Death Eater attacks when they do occur."

These assurances, however, do not seem enough to keep many people from beginning to question the Ministry's ability to stop He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. "If things keep going the way they are now, You-Know-Who's going to be running this country from the Minster of Magic's desk in a few months," said one anonymous Alley patron as Aurors and Medi-wizards hurried to clear the area and rush those wounded in the attack to St. Mungo's. "It's things like this that are making me wonder if moving to America wouldn't be a good idea."

Due to increasing concerns for public safety, the Ministry has issued an official warning for people to remain indoors unless it is absolutely necessary to go outside. The Daily Prophet is still making attempts to reach Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge for comment about this and other such Death Eater attacks, but he remains unavailable for comment. Since the devastating attack on the Ministry of Magic four years ago, the Minister has ceased making public appearances and has retreated to an undisclosed location to give orders through correspondences and missives to his aides and staff still located in the Ministry of Magic.

"The Minister is very concerned with the increasing number of Death Eater attacks, and is doing everything in his power to see that more precautions are taken to strengthen security and public safety," says junior aide to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is in almost constant communication with the Ministry. Messages are exchanged between him and Ministry staff almost forty times a day." When asked why the Minister refuses to be seen in public or return to the Ministry of Magic to deal with such important issues in person, Weasley replied, "Minister Fudge is a very important person in this war against You-Know-Who. After the attack on the Ministry four years ago, it was felt that security was not enough to assure the Minister's safety, and that it would be better for him to be moved to a secret location so You-Know-Who's followers couldn't find him. Despite the slight inconvenience of distant, the Minster continues to make public safety his number one concern, and his daily running of the Ministry has lost none of its quality."

Despite Weasley's and other Ministry staff's assurances that Fudge remains an integral part in the ongoing war effort, many in the Wizengamot are beginning to talk of reelecting a new Minister of Magic. "In these troubled times, we need a Minister who is not afraid to do his or her duty in the face of danger," says Amelia Bones, high member of the Wizengamot. "We cannot have a Minister that is so afraid of Death Eater attacks that he is going to disappear from public view to hide away in some secret place. We need someone who is willing to lead and is going to do what needs to be done to win this war."

Just how this war is going to be won though still remains to be seen. In an unofficial interview several days ago with Head of the Auror Department, Harrison Coric, he stated that he feels the Ministry can win this war. Informants inside the Ministry of Magic however say there are reports that the number of Aurors the Ministry currently employs is only half of what is actually should be to fight against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's growing hoards of Death Eaters. When asked about this alarming statistic, junior aide to the Minister Percy Weasley stated…

**(story continued on page 5)**

Snape snorted and threw the paper aside, not even bothering to finish reading the rest of the article. It almost comical how the media and others inside the Ministry kept trying to reassure the public the Ministry was still capable of fighting Lord Voldemort. From what he gathered from listening in to conversations over the week he's spent in number twelve Grimmauld Place, the war effort was even more desperate than what anyone was willing to admit. Shacklebolt's statement in the paper was such a glossed-over, optimistic view of the Ministry's ability to respond to Death Eater threats, it could have almost been considered a lie.

Turning back to his breakfast, Snape poked at his bowl of porridge with a spoon, but made no attempt to actually eat it. He found he suddenly had no appetite. Pushing his half-eaten breakfast away in defeat, he leaned back in his chair and sighed.

Since leaving Grimmauld Place almost two weeks before, he'd taken to following news of the war through issues of the _Daily Prophet _he now had delivered to Spinner's Road through an untraceable line of owls. It seemed like everyday things were getting worse and worse for the Light side. Just yesterday he'd read a report that five Ministry officials had been killed in a Death Eater attack on a Ministry envoy going through downtown London. And several days before that, King's Crossing had been hit by a terrible explosion that had resulted in the deaths of several dozen people - both wizards and Muggles alike. Muggle papers said it was the work of some international terrorist organization, but Snape (as well as the rest of the Wizarding community) knew it was really the work of Lord Voldemort's followers.

Staring at the table, Snape felt himself slip into memories that were at the same time both painfully poignant and strangely wistful. He remembered a time when in the aftermath of such a disaster he would have found himself in the middle of a crowded room, listening to reports and devising new plans of action for the Order of the Phoenix. He remembered a time when he had felt like he was part of something important - something that was worth dying for. He remembered how he'd felt like he was needed and (dare he believe it had ever really been so?) appreciated, as if his dark past might somehow be used to help those fighting for the right cause for once.

But those days were far behind him. They had been gone for four long and very lonely years. What once had made him an irreplaceable asset to the Order of the Phoenix's intelligence had been the very cause of his own downfall.

He supposed, looking back on it all, he should have seen it coming. Those who played with snakes were bound to get bit at some point. No one with a past like his could ever hope to fully escape the consequences of his past mistakes.

But that still didn't stop the festering hurt and anger still burning in his heart. He had thought Dumbledore of all people would have believed he'd never go back to the Dark Lord - that he'd never betray the Order. But it seemed he was wrong once again, and that he would just have to accept one of those harsh realities of Life: that he would never escape his past, and that he would always be seen as a traitor and spy - someone not worthy of trust or respect.

Adverting his eyes from his left forearm which he hadn't even realized he'd been staring at until now, Snape stared out a nearby window. A dreary sky stretched overhead, seeming to mirror Snape's inner thoughts. He became lost in the clouds, watching them twist and turn in the sky in seemingly perfect harmony with his own vacillating emotions of vengeful anger and defeated acceptance.

Snape didn't know how long he sat there staring into the sky, but it was with a sudden jolt he was brought back to himself by a magical signal thumping through the air, hitting his senses like a small concession wave. Leaping to his feet, Snape whipped his wand out of his robes and flew out of the room.

One of the protective wards he'd placed around the house had been broken.

Following the magical signal to where he sensed the ward had been breached, Snape found himself in the main parlor of the house. Even after almost two weeks of intense cleaning by both himself and Feaner (Snape found the manual labor an easy way to distract himself from his troubled thoughts), a thin layer of dust still hung over everything. But at least the house was halfway livable now.

But Snape didn't have time to contemplate the house very much. For there, standing in the front of the fireplace brushing soot off his dusty clothes, Snape found his unwelcomed guest.

"_Elos Norstrium!_" he angrily incanted, aiming his wand at the unknown man. A jagged bolt of bright green lightening streaked out of his wand, sizzling the air as it raced towards the mysterious intruder.

The man only just looked up in time to see Snape's curse coming at him, and hastily put up a block. A terrific _bang_ shook the room as curse and block met, followed by the overwhelming stench of burnt ozone.

"God damn it, Snape! Don't kill me!" a familiar voice rang through the smoky haze filling the room.

Snape was already halfway through his next curse when the voice finally registered in his brain, bringing him up short. As the last of the hazy smoke cleared, Snape was finally able to make out the face of his unwanted visitor - and found himself face to face with his old childhood enemy Sirius Black.

"It's nice to see four years of Azkaban hasn't dampened your wonderful sense of hospitality," Sirius tightly greeting, glaring at Snape through a curtain of mussed black hair. "You could have used a less powerful curse though… I don't think I'll be able to feel my arm for the next week now thanks to you."

Snape stared at the other man for several minutes of stunned silence, trying to make himself comprehend the presence of his arch nemesis suddenly standing in his fireplace.

"What are you doing here, Black?" he finally found the voice to hiss, his eyes narrowing in anger. He threateningly leveled his wand at Sirius. "I thought I made it clear I didn't want to be followed."

"I know that but there's something we need to talk about," Sirius replied.

"Like hell there is. What is this - Dumbledore sent you to find me?"

"No. I'm here on my own volition," Sirius said, keeping his gaze steadily focused on Snape's so he wouldn't waver and show unease by glancing down at the Potion master's wand which was still expertly aimed at his chest. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Well, _I_ don't want to talk - and least of all to _you_," Snape growled. "I should curse you for coming here. This is my house and as I already made clear I don't want people coming here looking for me."

"You already tried cursing me, Snape, and saw it didn't work, so just put that thing down before someone gets hurt," Sirius tartly replied.

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously, making Sirius wonder if that was really the smartest thing to say given his current position being caught between a wall and an angry ex-Death Eater. He forced himself to remain calm though, and held Snape's gaze undaunted.

"I can't let you disappear into seclusion like this without first making you hear something from someone who's been where you are now."

Snape gave a derisive snort. "I already told you, I don't want to hear anything you have to say. I just want to be left alone. I want nothing to do with Dumbledore or his Order ever again. I've suffered enough because of him."

"Dumbledore feels terrible about what happened to you," Sirius insisted. "Ever since he found out what really happened with the raid, he's been eaten up with guilt."

Snape gave a scornful bark of laughter. "And what, that's suppose to make me forgive the old man?" he sneered. "I don't think so. He deserves every bit of guilt he's feeling right now."

Sirius felt his insides drop a little. This was going to be harder than he originally thought. At least Snape wasn't throwing curses at him anymore, which was a definite improvement given the welcome that'd greeted him.

Making himself keep his patience, Sirius went on, "I know what you're going through right now, Snape, whether you believe it or not. In case you forgot, I spent twelve years of my life in Azkaban too - and for something I was wrongfully accused of just like you were. I know what it's like to feel as though you have no one you can trust anymore - no one to turn to. I know what kind of resentment you're feeling, how you feel as though everyone's turned their backs on you and left you to rot. I also know the anger you're feeling - the kind that makes you just want to lash out and blame everyone else around you for what happened."

Sirius saw he managed to hit some kind of nerve as the Potion master's eyes widened slightly in surprise, as if he hadn't been expecting such an insightful look into his own confused feelings.

"I know how it is to feel betrayed, Snape," he went on. "I know how you just want to run away and hold all this anger inside. But it's not healthy. Keeping all this anger to yourself only makes you angrier, which in the end is more self-destructive and harmful than anything anyone else could ever do to you."

"So that's what this is," Snape sharply cut him off, glaring at Sirius with piercing black eyes. "Just a rousing speech to try and convince me to forgive Dumbledore and come back to the ones that betrayed me - as though nothing ever happened. Well, I hate to break it to you, Black, but I have no intention of ever doing so. What Dumbledore did is not something I will ever forget or forgive."

"I'm not trying to tell you you should forgive Dumbledore or not," Sirius hotly retorted. "I'm just trying to say that what you're doing isn't going to accomplish anything except make yourself even more miserable and lonely than you already are."

Snape arched one dark eyebrow at Sirius and eyed him darkly. "So you're telling me you can here today with absolutely no intention of trying to convince me to forgive Dumbledore and return to the Order, thus assuaging the old man of his guilt?"

"No."

"You Gryffindors are terrible liars," Snape sneered. "You would have never been sorted into Slytherin."

Sirius bit his tongue and forced himself not to retort with, "_And for that I thank God everyday_." Instead he forced himself to remember he'd come there on a mission and wasn't going to let Snape goad him into getting angry or starting a duel. Eyeing Snape for a long moment of silence, Sirius carefully said, remembering Snape's previous comment, "That was an impressive show of acting before back in Headquarters. You even had me fooled you'd lost your mind to the Dementors."

Snape gave a derisive snort as if that wasn't a very hard thing to do.

Sirius forced himself to ignore that. "How did you do it? I don't remember hearing you ever had an Animagus form. That was one of the only things that kept me from going insane in Azkaban."

Snape seemed to suddenly forget his outward hostility towards Sirius, and finally lowered his wand from the other man's chest. A haunted look suddenly entered his eyes, shadowing his features with the memory of something few could understand and none ever wished to experience.

"It was difficult at first," Snape slowly replied, not quite meeting Sirius' eyes anymore. "I kept trying to remind myself that I was innocent and had to find out who framed me. That's not really a pleasant thought - more just a fact - so the Dementors couldn't really feed off it. I tried latching onto that, but sometimes even that wasn't enough. I am skilled in Occlumency and some of the methods helped, but…"

"-but there were still times when you felt like you were going to go insane," Sirius knowingly finished, his own voice distant and haunted with memories.

Snape silently nodded, unable to voice an actual reply.

For a moment, neither men spoke, too caught up in their own memories of the horrors they'd been forced to endure.

Very slowly, Sirius looked back up at Snape. "You were more honorable in your motivation than I was to keep my sanity-" he softly whispered "- as much as that pains me to admit that about a Slytherin. When I was in Azkaban, all I wanted to do was find Peter Pettigrew and kill him. I would have too if Harry hadn't stopped me. But you didn't need anyone else to stop you from doing that when you exposed Dorian. You kept your honor even when it would have been so easy to take your revenge."

"I didn't want to be like him," Snape softly said with a distant look in his eyes. "I didn't want to go back down that road…"

Sirius nodded his head slowly, seeming to look at Snape for the first time in a slightly different light.

Another long pause of silence filled the room before Snape finally broke it and asked in a suddenly tired, weary voice, "How did you find me? I did everything I could to make sure no one could follow me."

"By doing more research than all my years of Hogwarts combined," Sirius replied with a heavy, put upon sigh.

"That's not really saying very much…" Snape sneered.

Sirius however didn't seem to find that very offensive and suppressed a grin at his own well-known dislike for studying. "Yeah, maybe, but you were still a pain in the ass to find. I had a feeling you wouldn't go anywhere where someone could easily find you, so I had to dig around to find any useful information on where you might have gone. It took me forever to find out your parents names, and then a whole day in the Ministry shifting through old census records to find an actual address. And then to actually get here I had to… let's just say, make an unauthorized Floo connection from the Ministry…"

Snape raised another dark eyebrow at Black. "That's quite a lot of effort for someone who says he's doing this with absolutely no ulterior motives…" he said.

Sirius actually did Snape the favor of looking guilty.

"Does Dumbledore know you did this?" he demanded.

Sirius gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "No. He has no idea I've been trying to find you; he would have probably stopped me if he did. He seems to think you leaving is a fair punishment for what he did. I don't think he feels he deserves any kind of forgiveness from you."

"But _you_ seem to think he does," Snape noted with a hiss.

Sirius gave a frustrated sigh and leveled a stern look at Snape. "Look, like I said before, I'm not here to make you do anything. I honestly don't care if you want to live the rest of your life alone and miserable, but I feel there are some things you should consider before you commit yourself to this life of self-seclusion. I know what you're going through and can understand why you feel the way you do about certain things, but you can't let what happened to you dictate how you're going to live the rest of your life. You can either forget, forgive, and move on; or go on being angry with the world until you finally die. No matter what you do, there is still a war going on and there are those of us that could still use your help - the Order being one, though you probably don't want to believe me. I know Dumbledore as well as several other members would welcome you back with open arms - and not with the demand of any kind of forgiveness. Forgiveness has to come with acceptance and time, and both of those things are in your control. What you do next is your choice, but you should think it over wisely before you chose. I know we never got along as kids - or adults for that matter- but just know that I understand what you're going through and know how you feel."

Snape snorted. "So what - that's suppose to make us friends now or something?" he scoffed.

"No," Sirius truthfully replied. "I still think you're a greasy, bad-tempered git, but at least now I can blame some of that nastiness on something. Azkaban doesn't have much of a reputation for improving unpleasant dispositions."

Snape didn't say anything in response, but glared at Sirius darkly.

Ignoring Snape, Sirius slowly turned back towards the fireplace. "I hope you think what I said over a bit. I'm not expecting you to grasp some of the finer details, but I hope you'll at least realize what you're doing isn't going to change anything that happened to you."

Stepping into the fireplace, Sirius looked back at Snape and held the Potion master's eyes with his own. "If nothing else, just know that there'll always be someone else who knows what you've gone through. You know where to find me…"

And then in a flash of green flames, Sirius was gone, leaving Snape to stare thoughtfully after him.

* * *

"You did _what_?" Remus exclaimed to the echoing cries of disbelief from his fellow listeners.

Sirius rolled his eyes and gave his friend a disgusted look. "What? All I did was try and talk some sense into his greasy skull. What's it matter to you?"

"It's just that when I asked you where you were all afternoon, I wasn't expecting you to tell me you actually tracked Snape down and went to see him," Lupin said, still looking rather dazed with shock. "What did you talk to him about?"

"Basically I told him he was being stupid and acting like a child, and that running off to hide in some rundown shack wasn't going to change anything that happened to him," Sirius replied, leaning back in his chair to scan the ring of wide-eyed faces staring back at him.

"My goodness…" Mrs. Weasley murmured to herself. "I wonder how he took that…"

"Did you guys get into a duel?" Ron eagerly asked.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded beside him.

"No, we didn't duel. But he did send a particularly nasty Disemboweling Curse at me when I first got there," Sirius replied.

"Sounds like something Snape would do…" Mr. Weasley murmured.

"So I take it he wasn't necessarily happy to see you then?" Harry said, quirking an eyebrow at his godfather.

Sirius shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "No, not really. But at least he seemed to listen. "I was actually surprised he didn't curse me a thousand ways into next Monday."

"You were really stupid doing that, Sirius," Lupin said, giving his friend a disapproving look. "He could have blasted you away, and I don't think I would've blamed him. You had no right going after him like that when he expressly said he didn't want us to. He needs to figure things out on his own before he has people hounding him about-"

"Hounding who?" a sagely voice said from the doorway.

Everyone turned in their seats to see Dumbledore slowly glide into the basement, his bright blue robes shimmering in the dim candlelight.

Sirius suddenly looked nervous, as though he knew he was about to get in trouble.

Dumbledore seemed to notice Sirius' demeanor, and looked at Lupin expectantly.

Remus hesitated a moment, glancing between Sirius and the headmaster uncertainly, before finally saying, "Sirius went and saw Snape today."

A flurry of emotions ranging from surprise to excitement flashed across the old headmaster's face. But then, as if pulling himself together, he speared Sirius with a hard look. "What did you say to him?" he demanded.

Sirius cringed slightly at Dumbledore's tone. "I just went and tried to explain some things to him," he said.

"So you went after him when he specifically said he didn't want to be followed," Dumbledore said, sounding very much like he was scolding a disobedient student at school. "Sirius, how could you? I thought you would have had more sense than that."

"Come on, Dumbledore!" Sirius huffed. "Don't give me this speech like you aren't glad I went after him. You would've done the exact same thing too if you didn't think he'd curse you on the spot.

Dumbledore looked slightly wounded by this realistic assessment.

Sirius toned his voice down a bit at the sight of the headmaster's guilt-ridden face. "Look, I didn't say anything either way about him coming back or not. I just told him he needs to put things into perspective and think things over rationally before he makes a final decision. He's confused and hurt right now. Believe me, I should know. I know what it's like to spend so much time in Azkaban for something you never did. He just needed someone who could understand that to explain things to him. But that's all I said to him, Dumbledore, I swear."

Dumbledore stood there for several minutes, silently digesting Sirius' words. Finally giving a heavy sigh he said, "Well… I suppose no harm could come from you talking to him. But I do wish you had come to me beforehand before you went to see him like that."

"Do you think Severus will come back?" Mrs. Weasley tentatively spoke up from the back of the group. "He seemed so angry before, I just don't know what to expect."

Dumbledore began to open his mouth to answer, but just at that moment, the fireplace on the other side of the room roared to life. A great plume of bright green flames filled the hearth, and then were gone just as suddenly again as a tall, black cloaked figure ducked out from under the fireplace into the room.

For a moment everyone there thought it was just another Order member arriving early for the meeting that was suppose to take place later that night. But then the figure straightened and pushed his hood back from his face - making everyone stare in disbelief.

Severus Snape slowly scanned the room with critical black eyes before they finally came to rest on Dumbledore. For a long moment of silence, he just stared at Dumbledore, his features darkening with distain. But then, as if dismissing the old man as not worth his attention, he turned to Sirius still sitting at the table.

"I've made my decision," he slowly drawled, ignoring the stares of disbelief from the others in the room. "I will come back to fight for the Light side."

To Be Continued…

Like it? Hate it? Please tell me what you thought. Feedback is like gold to me.

Since classes have started, I should have more of a regular schedule again, so I should be able to update fairly regularly again. (Ha ha… famous last words…) I know a lot of people were rooting for Severus to do different things because of his betrayal and may be disappointed by the way things turned out, but I just want to say nothing is going to be as cut and dry as it may seem. Snape may have returned to the Light side, but there are still a lot of issues between him and Dumbledore that are going to cause some problems later on in the story. So, till then!


	7. Return

Holy crap on a cracker! Is this for real? An update? Wow. So after _five years_ I've finally gotten around to picking this story back up. That's longer than Snape was supposed to be in jail! Hope everyone enjoys!

**Chapter Seven: Return**

For several moments of startled eternity, utter silence reigned over the basement-kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. No one moved or even seemed to breathe. All eyes were riveted on the tall black figure standing in the hearth. Snape took a small amount of pleasure in the instinctual flash of fear he saw go through the youngest Weasley boy's eyes at his appearance. Even though he was no longer his student and at least nineteen years old by now, Snape was glad to see that the boy still had the presence of mind to fear him even after all these years. Trying not to be too obvious about it, the boy discreetly slunk behind Harry as if to use the other boy as a human shield against the Potion Master's intimidating presence.

The other Order members seemed no less startled by Snape's appearance and stared at him in open disbelief. Snape returned their stares with a dark glower.

"Severus…" Dumbledore whispered as though too stunned to immediately say anything else. His voice sounded unnaturally strained. Unbidden tears appeared in the corners of the old headmaster's eyes and gleamed wetly in the flickering light of the fire. "You came back…" As though in a daze Dumbledore took a step towards him, his hands held out as though to pull the estranged Potion Master into a hug.

Snape could not deny the surge of revulsion that went through him at the misty gleam of happiness and relief in the older man's eyes, and immediately took a step backwards out of Dumbledore's reach. Firelight from the hearth cast his still prison-haunted face into deep shadows, making his sneer of resentment somehow even more menacing and dark. Four years of remembered hurt, hatred and betrayal flared to life in his heart. "Do not touch me," he hissed with unbridled venom. He retreated several feet into one of the room's darker corners to put more distance between himself and Dumbledore and glared at the old headmaster with unveiled contempt. Wreathed in shadows he crossed his arms across his narrow chest, hugging the darkness and his heavy black cloak around him like a shield. "Just because I returned does not mean that I have forgiven you in any way for what you've done." Baleful black eyes glared at Dumbledore from out of the pervading gloom.

Dumbledore froze in the middle of the room at Snape's harsh rebuke. The headmaster's expression was anguished as though he'd just had a knife driven through his heart. The immediate happiness of seeing the estranged Potions Master was snuffed from his twinkling blue eyes as quickly as a _Nox_ spell extinguishing a flame.

Despite his simmering resentment for the old man, Snape felt a small pang of guilt at the sight of arguably the greatest wizard of their times reduced to such a pitiful state of disappointment. The feeling, however, was not long lived.

"Why _did_ you come back, Snape?" Lupin asked from the other side of the room, breaking the awkward standoff between the two former colleagues and comrades. "If you haven't forgiven Dumbledore for his mistake, why have you come back here?"

Snape shifted his black gaze from Dumbledore to the werewolf. "As I already said, I've returned to aide the Order of the Phoenix in its fight against the Dark Lord."

"So you thought about what I said?" Sirius said from the table.

Snape sneered at his former enemy with restrained disdain. "Despite my own disbelief for such a thing being possible, you were rather insightful about several things, Black, and I have decided to take your advice to heart. You were right: I am not helping anyone - least of all myself - by secluding myself away from the world. I want to see the Dark Lord defeated and this war finally brought to an end. In whatever way I can, I wish to be a part of the resistance again. I was part of this war when it started six years ago, and I wish to be a part of it when it ends whether in victory or defeat. Although I was betrayed by the ones I was trying to help I will return and give what assistance I can, although under several conditions."

"What conditions are those, Severus?" Dumbledore asked in a hollow voice. His eyes swam with lingering hurt and disappointment, although he did his best to hide his sorrow.

Snape's eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening as he turned to once more regard Dumbledore. "First: that I will not be contacted by anyone in the Order of the Phoenix unless the information being discussed strictly has to do with Order business. I want no more-" he glanced at Sirius with a sharp look "-uninvited social calls. Second: that I will not be asked to directly engage in any fights with the Dark Lord or any of his followers. I feel I have sacrificed enough for this cause already without being expected to lay down my life in battle. My contributions to the war effort will be strictly relegated to backline support. If either of these stipulations are unacceptable or ever infringed upon in the future, then I will immediately retract my offer of service and leave, never to return. Are those terms agreeable?"

"They are," Dumbledore affirmed with a nod. He gazed at Snape longingly like a parent staring at an estranged child who'd drifted too far away to ever be physically or emotionally reached again. "Thank you for coming back to us, even if you can never bring yourself to forgive me or anyone else for your incarceration. You have every right to hold a grudge against me although in time I hope I can prove myself worthy of your trust again."

"Understand this, Dumbledore," Snape hissed from the safety of the room's shadows. "I did not come back for you or anyone else in the Order. I am doing this for me so that once this war is over I might have closure to the horrors I was forced to endure and maybe even some small measure of peace. You were never a factor in my decision to return. Nor can anything you do ever regain my trust in you. I know how you play the game now and I will not naively be your pawn again. While helping the Order, the less interactions I have with you the better. So it would benefit you to refrain from seeking out my company unless it is strictly for Order business."

Dumbledore's face fell as he solemnly nodded his head. "I understand," he murmured in a hollow voice. There was no longer ever the faintest hint of a twinkle in his eyes.

His mission now complete, Snape stiffly nodded and in a swirl of long black robes turned back towards the fireplace. "I have reopened my floo connection to Grimmauld Place as well as opened the wards to my residence to allow messenger owls in and out. Please send all Order communications by either of these two ways." Gliding towards the hearth like a tall black wraith, the ex-Potions Master took a handful of floo powder from the canister on the ledge and was just about to throw it into the fire when a meek voice called out behind him.

"Severus, would you like me to make you a spot of something to eat before you leave?" It was Molly Weasley. The red-haired matriarch looked Snape's withered frame up and down like a worried mother inspecting one of her own children. Even in his billowing black robes the Potions Master looked emaciated and sick. He'd never been particularly robust in health or appearance even before his stay in Azkaban, and the last four years spent in the company of Dementors had not helped in any way. "You look like you could benefit from a good hot meal."

Snape's answering sneer was consciously toned down to a mild curl of his lips. Despite his general disillusionment towards the Order, he held no real ill will towards the plump homemaker. She was just too kind and innocent in her motherly ways to hold much of a grudge against her. "My house elf is overseeing the restoration of my health," he assured her with a formal dip of his head. "Now if you will excuse me…" Turning back to the hearth, Snape raised the handful of floo powder over the flames. But just as he was about to throw it in and take his leave, an anguished scream of pain pierced the air behind him.

Harry Potter - who'd just spent the entire time Snape discussed the terms of his return to the Order in silence - was suddenly screaming as though he were in the midst of being tortured and clutching his forehead with both hands. Blindly writhing in agony, the boy fell out of his chair onto the hard stone floor. His body wildly thrashed back and forth against the ground, his spine bending backwards as though the teen was trying to fold himself in half. His screams of pain were breathless and seemed to come from the very center of his being.

"No! Not again!" Sirius wailed as he dropped down onto his knees beside his godson. He tried to pull Harry into his arms to calm him, but the boy just screamed louder and violently thrashed out of his hold.

"Quick!" Lupin cried as everyone jumped back from the screaming teen. "Move everything out of the way so he doesn't hurt himself on something." Chairs and the main dining table were all scooted out of the way by a quickly incanted spell. Together, Mr. Weasley, Sirius and Lupin all stooped down beside the convulsing boy to try and still his violent thrashing.

"Oh Merlin," Molly Weasley moaned with tears in her eyes. "Please don't let this attack be any worst than the last one. I don't think the poor boy can survive another one like that…"

Hermione and Ron huddled together off to the side, helplessly watching their best friend scream and writhe on the floor. The Granger girl looked even closer to tears than Mrs. Weasley did.

Snape stared in startled horror. He turned to Dumbledore who had yet to make any move go near the boy or aide him in any way. "What's going on?" he demanded.

The old headmaster's eyes were filled with distress. "It's Voldemort. Over the last few years he's begun to attack Harry with increasing frequency through his scar. The last time he mentally attacked Harry, he was unconscious for almost two days afterwards." Utter helplessness tainted his voice. "There's nothing we can do to stop it, least of all me."

Without even a moment's hesitation to question his own sanity, Snape swept across the room towards the howling teen. "Move!" he roared at the three men holding Harry down as he came up to them. He roughly pushed Lupin out of the way when the werewolf did not comply fast enough. Stooping down beside Harry, the ex-Potions Master wrapped his spidery hands around either side of the boy's face and pinned his head down against the ground. The boy's scar was a violent shade of red. Snape could actually feel heat radiating off it like he was holding his hand up to an open stove. Keeping the boy's head still, the Potions Master used his thumbs to peel Harry's eyelids up so that he was staring into the boy's green eyes. There was no sign of awareness in the boy's gaze. Only unrelenting, soul-numbing pain.

Snape leaned down closer, staring deeply into Harry's eyes. There was a small pause as Snape forced himself to ignore Harry's ear-piercing howls of agony and clear his mind of all conscious thought. Suddenly he was falling away from himself into the boy's mind like a swimmer diving into a deep pool of black water. The first thing he was aware of upon delving into Harry's mind was pain. Pure, unrelenting, merciless, searing _PAIN_. The boy's mind was in tatters. Like a three-dimensional piece of fabric, Harry's mind was being torn apart in a thousand different directions at once. Snape had never seen or felt anything like it before. Mental attacks by a skilled Occlumen like the Dark Lord on another mind with no mental defenses like Potter's were dangerous enough. But a mental attack of this ferocity could easily destroy the victim's mind if not leave him completely insane by the end of it. If the boy was to survive this assault he had to act quickly.

Stretching out his mental senses, Snape easily detected the invading force wrecking havoc on the teenager's mind. Even as an incorporeal, transcendent presence of nothing more than pure thought, the Potions Master recognized the invading darkness and cold of the third presence in Harry's mind.

_Voldemort…_

It was surprisingly easy to think the Dark Lord's name in the confines of his least favorite student's mind than say it out loud in the corporeal world.

Like a suffocating cloud of darkness, Voldemort's presence invaded the boy's mind and tore at it with malicious intent, as though trying to shred every last trace of Harry's humanity apart with razor sharp talons of psychological pain. Snape suddenly realized the Dark Lord did not mean to simply injury the boy or wear down his mental defenses, but to completely destroy his mind. This was not merely an attack on Potter, but rather the final assault on the only one who'd ever escaped his killing curse. He wanted to shatter the boy into a hundred million pieces mind, heart and soul. He had to stop this or there would be nothing left of the boy when he returned to his own mind.

Gathering all his mental strength together, Snape sent a powerful command rippling through Harry's mind like a Quidditch announcer employing a _Sonorous_ spell. _Stop!_ The poisonous third presence in Harry's mind paused in its attack and refocused its attention on Snape as though only now realizing his presence there. Snape felt a wave of surprise radiate off the invading cloud of darkness. _Be gone! _he shouted and pushed every ounce of mental strength he had at the Dark Lord's presence.

Blinding white light exploded through Harry's mind. Snape felt the third presence shriek and recoil from him in angry pain. Its hold on the boy's mind loosened. Snape could actually feel Voldemort's anger radiating across his and Harry's mental bond. Gathering his strength, Snape sent another wave of dazzling white light at the Dark Lord's presence. With a final shriek of murderous rage the poisonous darkness retreated from Harry's mind. Snape lingered for several moments in the emptiness of Harry's mind just to be sure the Dark Lord would not try to return. Around him, he felt the torn edges of Harry's mind shudder and heave like a wounded animal shivering in the wake of a violent assault. But the Dark Lord did not return.

Like waking out of a deep sleep, Snape came back to himself with a small jolt. Beside him, Harry lay unconscious on the floor - his body now motionless and still. Shaking his head to rid itself of the lingering chill of his encounter with the Dark Lord, Snape shakily removed his hands from Harry's head. As he did so, the teenager gave a murmured groan. Dazed green eyes drifted open and groggily looked around.

"Wha- what happened?" Harry asked. His voice was raw from the last few minutes of tortured screaming. Weakly, he reached up and rubbed his scar. It was no longer an angry red like it'd been when Voldemort was channeling himself through it, but its edges still burned a painful looking pink.

Utter silence answered him. Every person gathered there in the Black family basement was too busy staring at the former Potions Master in shock.

"You did it. You stopped Voldemort's attack," Sirius muttered as if in a daze. He stared at his childhood enemy in what could have almost been described as reverent awe. "No one's ever been able to do that. Not even Dumbledore. How'd you do it?"

Snape, however, did not answer, and instead pushed himself back to his feet and straightened his robes. With a dark glare he turned to Dumbledore standing on the edge of the wall of people that'd gathered around him and Harry during Voldemort's assault.

"Why haven't you taught this boy Occlumency?" he demanded with whip-like harshness. "His mind is like an unlocked house to the Dark Lord's invasion. He has absolutely no mental defenses. If I hadn't interceded just now the Dark Lord would most likely have destroyed every shred of mental facilities Potter possesses. Are you _trying_ to make him an easy target for the Dark Lord?"

"I couldn't," Dumbledore admitted in a pained voice. "I tried to teach him years ago, but his connection with Voldemort makes him too sensitive to my presence. Every time I try to teach Harry how to shield his mind, Voldemort tries to possess him."

Behind Snape, Sirius was trying to help Harry sit. The boy still seemed too dazed from Voldemort's assault to give much assistance in the matter. As limp as a rag doll, he passively let his godfather and Lupin pull him partway off the ground.

The former Potions Master sneered at Dumbledore in disgust. "How do you plan to win this war if you cannot even protect our greatest asset?" he demanded with a sweeping gesture towards the stunned teen on the floor. "I managed to drive the Dark Lord from his mind this time, but I doubt I will be able to do so again. The Dark Lord knows there is another Occlumens watching over him now and will attack next time with even more force - force that I probably will not be able to fight. I do not delude myself in thinking that I can take on the Dark Lord in full out mental battle. The boy needs to learn Occlumency himself. If he does not, I have no doubt the Dark Lord will kill him the next time he attacks him through their bond."

"But who's going to teach him?" Lupin asked. "Dumbledore can't even look Harry in the eyes without Voldemort trying to possess him." He and Sirius had finally managed to prod Harry into a sitting position with him propped against his godfather's shoulder. The boy still didn't seem ready to take on the task of standing just yet, and woozily swayed from side to side where he sat. More than likely he was going to have a raging headache for the next day or two.

Snape heaved a heavy sigh of resignation. "I will teach the boy."

More than a few stared at the former Potions Master in unveiled shock.

"You'll actually do that?" Sirius said. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

Glancing at Harry who still seemed too dazed to be following the flow of conversation, Snape scowled. "Potter needs mental defenses of his own if there is to be any hope of him someday facing the Dark Lord on the battlefield. He will not survive that long, however, if steps are not taken to fortify his mind against the Dark Lord's attacks. And soon. Since I am the only one here qualified and-" he cast Dumbledore a condescending glare "- capable of doing so, I will take on the burden of teaching him myself."

"When do we start?" Harry surprised Snape by weakly saying from the floor. Apparently the boy had been following the conversation better than Snape had thought. Although he looked no better than the living image of a wrung out wet rag, a dim light shined in the boy's eyes. A light of determination and desperate, last ditch hope.

Snape looked Harry's haggard form up and down with calculating eyes. "Tomorrow," he curtly replied. "The sooner you grasp the concept of Occlumency, the better. You are nothing but a sitting target here without some way of protecting yourself from the Dark Lord's attacks."

Harry nodded, almost thankfully. If Snape had been looking more carefully, he might have seen that same gratefulness mirrored in Sirius, Dumbledore and everyone else's gaze. But he did not share the teen's optimism. Because in helping the boy guard himself against Voldemort's attacks, he couldn't help but feel he was somehow allowing himself to be dragged back down into the Order's - and by association _Dumbledore's_ - full control…

* * *

Voldemort came back to himself with a violent jerk. His high backed throne shuddered from the motion. Breathing heavily, the Dark Lord gripped the armrests of his chair. Candles burned at several points around the perimeter of his private rooms in his secret stronghold, but darkness still pervaded the air.

What _happened?_ One minute he was tearing the Boy-Who-Lived's mind apart, relishing every exquisite scream of pain from the boy through their mental connection, when suddenly another presence had appeared and driven him from the boy's mind. It had felt familiar, but it hadn't been Dumbledore. He'd seen to it that Dumbledore no longer even _attempted_ to come near Harry anymore, let alone try to enter his mind and teach him Occlumency. Plus this presence hadn't felt as pure as Dumbledore's. Dumbledore's presence in a mental battle was like trying to go up against a living wall of pure white energy. But this presence… this presence had felt _darker_. It had fought him back with light, yes. But around its edges he had felt the taint of shadows and… _anger_. Whoever had fought him had not been Dumbledore. But then who? There were very few Occlumens left in wizarding England since the start of the second war, and even fewer who were as skilled in Occlumency as this person had been. The only Occlumens Voldemort knew of who possessed that level of skill were Dumbledore and…

The Dark Lord stiffened with realization.

_Snape._

Of course. His former spy. He'd almost forgotten about the dour Potions Master over the last few years. No doubt they'd freed him from Azkaban after discovering his true spy working inside Dumbledore's Order.

The Dark Lord slowly leaned back in his chair. How very interesting… So it seemed Snape had survived his years amongst the Dementors with most if not all of his mental facilities still intact, and had against all odds gone back to fight for those who'd originally put him in prison. That might prove to be a problem. The snarky man had been a thorn in Voldemort's side before and still seemed intent on undermining his plans even now.

Well, that couldn't be allowed to happen. Not when he was so close to finally destroying what little resistance still remained and taking full control of the Ministry, and with it, all of England. The end of the war was within in his grasp. And no one - especially not his treacherous ex-spy! - was going to ruin that.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair with a snaky grin as a dark plan began to form in his head.

He was just going to have to make sure Snape was permanently removed from the equation before he could prove himself a threat to Voldemort's final push for total domination…

**To be continued…**

So a nice short chapter to get everyone back into the groove of the story. I just hope people are still interested in this fic. Please review if you'd like to see me continue!

Signing out,  
LAXgirl


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